


he plays bass

by toriiixoox



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Bands, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Band Fic, Eventual Smut, Light Angst, M/M, More tags to be added, Mutual Pining, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Slow Burn, Song fic, Strangers to Lovers, akaashi is //gay panic//, bokuto is a hot dumbass, but you dont need feelings to nut i get it, just a little bit i promise nothing serious just a baby bit of angst, the smut is in chapter 6 if anyone just wants to read the smut im not going to stop you, the tiniest baby bit of coffee shop au, though the story is very good and ADDS TO THE FEELING, yukie is akaashi's roommate and bff ok it just felt right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:28:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 74,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25030924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toriiixoox/pseuds/toriiixoox
Summary: Akaashi is completely fine with his normal life and his normal job and his lack of love life. He's comfortable, or, rather, he was comfortable until he meets Bokuto and is shoved out of his comfort zone. Now, Akaashi is completely awestruck by this hot guy on stage who is playing the bass and stealing his heart all at the same time.Alternately: Bokuto is as hot as he is a dumbass, Akaashi is as anxious as he is gay, and both of them are as oblivious as they are *heart eyes* at the other.
Relationships: ((theyre there in the last few chapters ok)), ((tsukiyama and kuroken are there but barely)), Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 100
Kudos: 599
Collections: HQ Feels (Mostly M or E)





	1. ch1 / contact

**Author's Note:**

> this entire fic is completely inspired by "she plays bass" by beabadoobee. it's an incredible song and a bop and it is the sole motivation for this fic. feel free to listen to it while u listen (or don't, u do u)
> 
> this fic is completely planned out and will be 5 chapters long! I hope to have a chapter out every week! :)

How many incredibly bad life decisions did Akaashi have to make to be standing here in this crowded club at 10 pm on a weeknight? What series of absolutely devastating misjudgements had to have taken place for him to be in this situation right now?

The bar was plenty full for a Thursday night, not at capacity, but with barely enough elbow room in the thick of it. Despite arriving as late as he could, he had still been there for too long. He had already had enough of the alcohol stench and overly loud voices. 

Scanning the room, he noticed that he might be the only person in here without accompaniment. Everyone around him seems to be soaking in the atmosphere, company, and multiple beverages. He couldn’t even seem to get a grip on one of the three. Akaashi made a mental note to invite Yukie the next time that he attends one of these things. Scratch that, Akaashi decided that he will never be attending one of these things again.

The advantage, however, to attending alone is the vast amount of silent entertainment Akaashi found in everyone else’s amusement. Once he had gotten over the looming anxiety that told him that he should be having fun in the same way that that man over there is having fun, he started to actually enjoy himself. 

He watched a couple dance like absolute fools with no mind for anyone watching, or personal space. There’s a group of 4 or 5 women in a corner close to the stage that are all gossiping closely together. Akaashi is convinced that they are all gossiping about each other. He spots 3 men putting bets on who can finish their drink the fastest. (Spoiler alert: it’s the man in the red, because he’s the only one that doesn’t almost choke to death on it.) 

The numbers on his watch read 10:12 pm and Akaashi is cursing himself for checking the time. It’s only been 12 minutes of people watching and sipping on his drink. The slight annoyance that he felt for just having been there has returned. Every ounce of it that left when he made a fun game of trying to hear what certain groups of people were saying over the loud music had now found its way back to him. He definitely needs to bring Yukie with him next time. No, he’s not coming back. 

10 o’clock means 10 o’clock, not 10:12 or, he checks the time again, 10:15. It smells like beer and sweat in here, Akaashi has work tomorrow too early in the morning to think about, and a guy has just bumped into him, spilling a drink down his back. 

“Hey, sorry dude!” As quickly as the guy spilled the drink, he was gone. He left only a small apology sandwiched between a chuckle. 

Now Akaashi smells like beer and sweat, he has work tomorrow, it’s getting increasingly loud in here, and every minute that he spends in this awful club, he is not getting back. His foot is tapping from a combination of the irritation and anxiety of the situation. If he is here for a minute longer, he’s not sure how he’ll survive. 

Mic feedback catches Akaashi’s attention. “Alright, guys!!! I know, I know! I know what you’re all here for, why you’ve all been waiting this long! So, without any further ado, let’s give it up for Crowlster!!” The man on stage seems to be seething enthusiasm from every limb on his body. It’s a bit much for Akaashi, especially in the state that he’s in right now and surrounded by this many people. But said people give the same level of energy right back at the stage. 

The lights go down, and with it, a shift in the atmosphere appears. There’s a weird aura of calm that settles along with anticipation. All throughout the venue, people are screaming and clapping simply at the thought of the band’s future performance. What is he doing here? Akaashi is completely out of his element. His comfort zone was 3 miles back, but he just has not stopped charging forward, and for what?

“Hey hey hey! How is everyone doing tonight?” The lights come back up slowly, bringing a dark silhouette into focus on the back of the stage. 

When the band stepped forward into the bright spotlights, anyone (especially the attractive women) on the floor who were not pushed as far up against the stage as they could be, rushed to do so. Akaashi was not one of those people. He sat at the back of the room, away from the large swarming, screaming crowd, at a table facing the stage. 

“Good! Good! We’re Crowlster and we are so excited to be playing for such a beautiful crowd tonight!” 

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a series of bad decisions that sent Akaashi here. Maybe it wasn’t a million events leading up to this moment. Maybe it was just 1 event and 1 non-thought out decision. Maybe, just maybe, it was the hot guy that he met at the coffee shop giving Akaashi his number and telling him that he was playing at Contact tonight at 10. 

The man talking now was certainly a hot commodity. At least 15 women in the crowd were talking about him as he stood center stage. How could they not be? His ink black hair was sticking in a hundred different directions, but he made it look good. His body was chiseled by the gods themselves when they were having a particularly lovely day. Not so insanely buff so as to scare old women away, but with enough muscle to share and still be content with. And the way he smiled- no, smirked- could cure diseases if it tried hard enough. 

He wasn’t Akaashi’s type, though. He was too smug, too vein, too full of himself. He portrayed an aura that knew how good it was and how it was too good for anyone else. Like he said, not his type. 

If the lead singer simply portrayed that aura, the drummer was soaking in it. An uninterested facial expression that was either so good at faking that he didn’t want to be there, or was completely genuine in that he actually did not want to be there, sat upon his face. Truly, Akaashi could not tell which it was. 

Despite not being at the front of the stage, he definitely commanded it. He was in charge the entire time, even if he hadn’t spoken a single word. There was no disputing it, especially when he raised his drumsticks up and tapped them 4 times in succession. Though he liked the commanding energy, he was also most certainly not Akaashi’s type. 

No, it wasn’t the hot lead singer or the mysterious drummer. 

Not long after the blonde drummer had started creating a rhythmic basis, the lead singer followed with the guitar, but not his vocals just yet. This band, or rather, duo in this moment in time, was enough for everyone in the room except for Akaashi. He knew he would regret it, but he checked his watch again. In the act, he’s particularly happy that he’s in the back of the room with no one to judge him for checking the time barely a minute into their performance.

In this simple melody that the two men had created, Akaashi had found himself getting lost and enjoying himself more in the moment than he would ever remember looking back on the memory, but it didn’t matter. 

He wonders if he’s got the wrong place, the wrong time, maybe he should text him. There are only two musicians on this stage right now and even though they were incredibly talented, it’s not the reason that he suffered through the last hour in travel and waiting time to see. Even still, he can’t help but enjoy himself as he watches the dark haired guitarist thrash around with a genuine smile on his face. The drummer even finds a smirk. 

With the energy that has already been created by the band, the crowd is going wild. The lead hasn’t started singing yet, but people are still screaming along and dancing to the beat the duo has fostered. It’s incredible, but-.

And then another element. 

The sound comes first, a deep vibration that shakes Akaashi’s center. And as soon as it does, Akaashi doesn’t know whether to close his eyes and revel in the sounds that the band is producing or to never blink again, or just as long as the bassist is in his line of sight. He wants to feel the song and remember it forever, but his brain can only focus on one thing. 

Earlier at the coffee shop, Akaashi was taken aback by how incredibly attractive he was, but here, right now, Akaashi wonders how they’re the same person. The guy in the coffee shop had ordered a pumpkin spiced latte, burned his tongue immediately after picking the drink up, and then whined about it quietly to himself until Akaashi came up to him and asked him if he was okay. He had a scarf wrapped around his neck and a jacket that was one size too big for him. His hair laid flat on his head with the bleached tips pointing down towards the ground.

_“Stupid latte, stupid dumb cup with its stupid lid, stupid me for falling for the stu-,” he was grumbling to himself and to the cup filled with latte as if it was the liquid’s fault in the slightest._

_Akaashi thought for many moments before actually approaching and asking, “Hey, are you okay?” When he did, the man perked right up as if the incident had never even happened._

_“Yes! Thank you! The name’s Bokuto!” Bokuto’s hand was extended out in front of him, palm facing the sky. Akaashi had to wonder if Bokuto had ever shaken anyone’s hand before or if he was looking for a low-five._

_“Akaashi.” He nodded as he says his name and gestures with his hand so as to not make a fool of himself in choosing a greeting. Bokuto was completely unphased by Akaashi choosing to not make physical contact with him as he wrapped the hand around his warm coffee cup._

_“I’ve never been here before or had this,” he lifted his cup up and sloshes the liquid around inside, “had no idea it would be this good! Or this hot!”_

_“Are you not from around here, then?” Akaashi’s curiosity got the better of him, plus he wasn’t complaining about knowing more about this enigma standing in front of him._

_Bokuto looked like he has to think for a half a second before shaking his head vigorously. “Nope! I'm about an hour out of the city, but my band and I are playing at Contact tonight! What about you? Any plans for tonight?”_

_What kind of amazing plans could someone have on a Thursday night? (Other than performing with a band, I guess.) Akaashi shook his head back and forth, “No plans, not tonight.”_

_His eyes looked truly golden as they light up at those four words. “Why not come and see us play then? We’re on at 10! What do you say?” Akaashi then regretted telling Bokuto that he didn’t have plans. He saw no way out of this, though, even if he agreed to go, it’s not like Bokuto would notice if he didn’t go. Then again, if he went, he’d be able to see Bokuto again._

_Still, Akaashi hesitated, “Uh- Well, I-.”_

_“Here! You don’t have to agree and you don’t have to come if you don’t want to! You don’t even have to answer right now and feel bad about not coming or having to reject me, but here’s my number! If you want to tell me how it was, if you do end up coming, or if you want to sell it on eBay once I get famous, the choice is yours.” He reached into his back pocket and grabbed a pen. With a very shaky hand, he printed his number onto the sleeve of Akaashi’s coffee cup. He looked way too pleased with himself and it caused Akaashi to let a smile spread across his face._

_“I’ll see if I can make it.” He left the conversations without obligatories, but Bokuto didn’t seem to mind one bit. Of course, Akaashi was going to go, despite his logical reasoning telling him that he will hate it there and that 10 pm is way too late to go to Contact, stay for the show, and make the commute home. Akaashi was going to go, not only because he would never forgive himself for not going to listen to his music and see his face again, but also because Bokuto was overwhelmingly kind and understanding. He wanted a reason to text him and talk to him again._

But here he was, in front of him, a completely different person. Akaashi is so sure that this person is just a sibling, twin, or stunt double that he would bet money on it. The person on the stage was wearing a cutoff tank that hugged his body in all of the right ways. He’s not sure if it’s doing him more favors than the adorably oversized jacket, but his rapidly beating heart tells him that it definitely is. This guy wouldn’t burn his tongue on a syrupy sweet drink, but if he did, he would shrug it off like it was nothing. And his hair, _his hair_ , wasn’t drooping down into his golden eyes, no. His hair was sticking straight up, the silver tips no longer sitting politely at the ends of his depleted locks, but integrated within the dark strands. 

Akaashi is regretting sitting this far away from the stage.

He wasn’t in charge of the stage or the energy as much as the drummer, but he had an unwavering control. Conventionally, he wasn’t as “heart-throb attractive” as the lead singer, but his smile was kind and aloof. He was absolutely Akaashi’s type and he couldn’t wait to text him about the performance tonight, or should he wait until tomorrow? 

Regardless, he’s not even really sure what he’s going to say or how he’s going to praise him, because he spends the first 3 songs ogling over how different and incredible Bokuto looks on stage. It’s not just his new style, it’s this new vibe that he gives off. At first Akaashi thinks it’s from the confidence that the stage and the bass in his hands bring, but it’s not. The confidence isn’t new or increased from the man he saw in the coffee shop, so why is it flustering Akaashi so much? 

Akaashi is trying his hardest to pay attention to the last songs of the set, not to the gorgeous man and his talented fingers picking at strings. He asks himself nicely to pry his eyes away and focus on the band as a whole and this incredible sound they’re producing. 

He likes music, of course he likes music, who _doesn’t_ like music? But, he wouldn’t consider himself a music fanatic. He isn’t a lover of all the old classics or constantly up-to-date with the latest hits. Though sitting here, listening to the sounds that the band is producing, Akaashi wonders why music isn’t his entire life. 

The last song that Crowlster plays has his pulse quickening and blood pressure rising. His body is reacting to the music, swaying and moving with the beat. Perhaps if Yukie was here, he would be on his feet dancing. Akaashi is enjoying himself far more than he thought that he was going to all thanks to an idiot who burnt his tongue on a latte. 

Bokuto seems to be enjoying the last song just as much as Akaashi was. The singer has a smile on his face that truly hasn’t left since he started playing. The drummer, who previously looked like he could not be bothered, now seems to be very into it. There’s something different about Bokuto. There’s a mixture of concentration and carelessness residing on the bassist’s face. Akaashi is captivated by it. He’s convinced that he has enough material to text Bokuto about tomorrow, so he allows himself to glue his eyes back to Bokuto for the final minutes of the gig. He begins to walk to the center of the stage as drums fade out with the guitar. The only sound in the entire place is coming from Bokuto. He has never seen this amount of pure joy exuding from someone.

A spotlight burns down on Bokuto so bright that he can see the beads of sweat falling from his forehead as his fingers pluck at the strings intensely. Though, for Akaashi, the spotlight is unnecessary, as that’s where his undivided attention would have been anyways. The song ends with a synchronized impact and is replaced with screams. Akaashi even contributes with loud claps and a “Woo!” or two. 

“Thank you so much for being such a wonderful crowd!” The lead is breathy with sweat dripping down from his brow off of his chin. “Goodnight everyone! Stay safe!” The 3 bandmates are waving to the crowd as they exit off of the stage, smiling largely. All Akaashi can do is stare at Bokuto as he leaves the stage.

As he’s ducking behind the curtain, he swears that Bokuto’s eyes meet his for a moment.

* * *

The moment that Akaashi gets home from the venue, he realizes how exhausted he is. His feet hurt from the commute home, the back of his shirt is sticky, and his eyelids feel heavy. It hits him all at once. The only thing that he wants to do is crawl into bed; he can’t even be bothered to take a shower, he’ll do it in the morning. 

“Ahem.” Someone clears their throat as soon as Akaashi steps foot in his room. _Please just let me get into bed_. “It is a weeknight. Where were you so late?”

Akaashi doesn’t need to look behind him to know that his roommate is standing in his doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest. He collapses on the bed. “Please leave. I’m so tired,” he muffles into his mattress. 

He feels a weight in the bottom corner of his bed. “Were you kidnapped?”

“Yukie, I am going to start throwing pillows at you if you don’t leave so I can sleep.”

“Okay, maybe not kidnapped, maybe…” There’s a faint sound of tapping on a chin. “A cute boy?” That’s it. He’s going to start throwing things. Akaashi sits up on his bed staring daggers at Yukie who only smiles in return. “So it is a cute boy?”

“I was at a club.” 

Yukie laughs at this, literally, lets out a laugh so large that she has to hold her stomach. “You want me to believe that you, Akaashi, my wonderful roommate and dear friend, were at a club until 1 o’clock in the morning on a weeknight when you have work tomorrow?” She’s breathless and laughing between every word. “I would sooner, HA, sooner believe you were kidnapped.” Her laughing stops abruptly as she’s hit in the side of the head with a pillow.

“I’ll do it again.”

Yukie is no longer laughing, but she does continue on, “Seriously, where were you?”

“I. Told. You. Already. I was seeing a show at Contact. Now please let me sleep.” Akaashi lies back down in his bed, pushing Yukie as he slides his feet under the blankets. 

“Akaashi, you are not falling for someone in a band. Do not tell me you are crushing on this guy who plays music on stage with other people for a living.” Akaashi has known Yukie for long enough to not get offended by these statements. She means no harm, only expressing her disbelief. 

“You just said the same thing twice,” Akaashi points out. 

This time Akaashi is the one hit with the pillow. “Hush. Hush. Answer the question.” Yukie’s eyes are glimmering with fascination. Typically Yukie is the one with the relationship drama, complaining to Akaashi who sits politely and nods along. Now the roles are reversed, whether Akaashi wants them to be or not. Yukie is sitting on the foot of his bed taking in every word that Akaashi wants to give. 

He sighs loudly. The only way that Yukie will leave him in peace is if Akaashi just tells her the truth. Besides, Akaashi isn’t necessarily angry with talking about Bokuto to someone, especially Yukie. “There’s this guy.” Yukie starts bouncing up and down with a smile growing larger on her face, but she stays quiet, waiting for more details. “I met him at Brewers earlier and he gave me his number and told me to come see his show, so I did.”

“How hot was he?” Yukie’s eyes are nearly glowing. If this were anyone other than Yukie, Akaashi’s face would be as red as a stop sign, but this is Yukie, so he rolls his eyes and throws the pillow back at her. “That hot, huh?” He throws another pillow at her. “Holy shit, you better snatch him up, or-.” Akaashi throws his last pillow at her, more forcefully this time. 

“He plays bass.”

Yukie presses her palms against one another gently and points them directly at Akaashi. “He plays bass,” she repeats, shaking her head, but not letting the smile leave her face. 

“What’s his bands’ name? Let me look him up! Oh my god, you got his number, have you texted him yet? What’s his name?” Despite how tired Akaashi feels, he can’t even be annoyed at Yukie. It’s been a while since Akaashi has felt like this and he’s glad that he has Yukie to be excited with him. 

“Tomorrow, Yukie, okay? I promise.” 

“Okay, okay,” Yukie puts her hands up, “I’ll hold you to that.” She shuts the door behind her, leaving Akaashi alone in his room. He strips off his shirt and pants, putting on a pair of clean pajamas, a definite upgrade from his beer-soaked shirt. He looks down at his phone, a device that seemed suddenly much more important in his life. 

What would he say to Bokuto tomorrow? What would Bokuto say back to him? Would it be weird if Akaashi asked Bokuto to go to another one of his shows? No, right? Bokuto is the one that invited him in the first place. 

These questions swarmed around in Akaashi’s mind until he forcibly put them, and himself, to rest. There would be plenty of time tomorrow to worry about Bokuto, and he would. 

* * *

Akaashi woke up just as he fell asleep, exhausted and thinking about Bokuto. Yukie made sure to wake him up, making him breakfast and starting the shower for him. “Today is a big day,” she had said, wiggling her eyebrows at him as she turned on his lights. 

After his shower, he sat at the table with Yukie. “Okay, what are you going to say to him?” She is just jumping right into business.

“I’ll probably just text him on my lunch break and tell him that I had a good time at the show,” he shrugs, shoving food into his mouth. Yukie blinks at him once, and then twice, and then a third time. 

“Why not text him now, and then when he gets it, he can reply and then you can reply again on your lunch break?” 

“Yukie it is 7 in the morning, there is no way that he’s up.”

“So what? He gets a good morning text from the guy he invited to his show? Boohoo.”

That actually is a good point. He might as well get it over with and send the first text. Then, he won’t have to worry about it all morning before lunch. Plus, if he writes it right now, he’ll have Yukie there to make sure that he doesn’t chicken out or say the wrong thing. “Okay, okay, what do I say?”

“Well, what were you going to say?”

“Uh- I don’t know. Probably just like,” Akaashi pauses and pulls out his phone. He begins to type a message. 

**Hey! What’s up?**

Yukie is peering over his shoulder, watching him tap each letter. Akaashi repeatedly taps the back button.

**Hey Bokuto! It’s Akaashi.**

Yukie puts two thumbs up and Akaashi keeps going. 

**Hey Bokuto! It’s Akaashi. loved ur show last night.** No, no, backspace.

**Hey Bokuto! It’s Akaashi. Had a great time at ur show last night! u guys were great.**

“Yes! Perfect! Now just ask him a question so that he has something to respond to and then bam! You’re good to go!” She is absolutely beaming at the entire situation, specifically Akaashi actually talking to someone, but also the fact that she gets to help.

**Hey Bokuto! It’s Akaashi. Had a great time at ur show last night! u guys were great. r u guys still in town?**

“How are you so good at this when you have barely any practice?” Akaashi rolls his eyes and doesn’t answer the question. His finger is hovering over the send button, but he can’t seem to let himself make contact with the screen. “Do it!”

“I- I don’t know. Maybe I should just send it at lunch. Don’t you think it’s weird sending it this early in the morning, what if h-.” Akaashi is interrupted by Yukie’s finger giving Akaashi’s thumb a helpful nudge. _Woosh_. 

“It’s not weird. It’s sent. You’re welcome. This way, remember, you don’t have to worry about what to say all morning before lunch. Now go finish getting ready, don’t be late for work.” Yukie reminds Akaashi of Bokuto yesterday when he scrawled his number on Akaashi’s cup, way too proud of herself. 

Except, he is absolutely worrying about the message before lunch, but instead of worrying about things he can control, he’s worrying about things he can’t control. What if Bokuto replies and he thinks Akaashi is ignoring him? He did not think this through. 

By the time lunch rolls around, Akaashi can’t even bear to look at his phone screen. What if Bokuto completely rejects him through a text message? It’s only noon and Akaashi has most definitely lost 2 years of his life due to stress. _It’s fine. It’s fine, just do it_. 

Taking a great breath into his lungs, he unlocks his phone. **3 new messages**. 

**yUWUkie / 11:57 a.m.** **  
** **update? did he txt u?**

 **yUWUkie / 11:58 a.m.** **  
** **akkkkkaaaaaashhhhiiiiiiiiiii**

 **yUWUkie / 12:01 p.m.** **  
** ***eye water emoji***

He exhales the breath out of his lungs. He’s not entirely sure whether he is relieved that he wasn’t rejected or freaking out even more that he hasn’t messaged him back yet. 

**Sent to yUWUkie / 12:04 p.m.** **  
** **Well, i thought i had 3 msgs, but they were all from u so**

 **yUWUkie / 12:04 p.m.** **  
** **oops :) maybe he’s still sleeping? u would b if u didnt have to work tday**

 **Sent to yUWUkie / 12:05 p.m.** **  
** **Guess so, yeah. Ill keep u posted.**

 **yUWUkie / 12:06 p.m.** **  
** ***thumbs down emoji***

 **Sent to yUWUkie / 12:07 p.m.** **  
** **U know u can send actual emojis and not just write “*thumbs down emoji*” right?**

 **yUWUkie / 12:07 p.m.** **  
** ***eye roll emoji***

Akaashi is actually incredibly grateful for the few minutes of distraction that Yukie provides for him during his lunch break. Otherwise, he definitely would have been thinking about Bokuto not texting him back the entire time. He knows Yukie is right, too. If he didn’t have work today, he would be at home, still in bed sleeping right now. Plus, Bokuto was definitely there for longer than he was last night, who knows when he went to sleep? 

Akaashi decides to give Bokuto the benefit of the doubt. He also decides to cut his lunch short and get back to work. 

//

When Akaashi finally gets out of work at 4, he instinctively checks his phone. **2 unread messages.** Probably just Yukie asking what he wants to do for dinner. He opens his messages. 

**Bokuto / 3:42 p.m.** **  
** **HEy hey hey1 Akaashi! Sry just woke up lol tysm im so glad u came and had a gr8 tme!!!!! Doin shows in th area 4 anthr few weeks!!! Playing anthr show soon:(**

 **Bokuto / 3:42 p.m.** **  
** **:)***

Akaashi’s heart threatens to drop into his stomach with the severity of how it’s beating. The first thought that crosses through his mind is wow these texts are so horribly composed. The second, more important, thing that follows right behind is oh my god he texted me back. His palms are sweating now, having a hard time holding a steady grip on the phone. He’s not sure if he should text back now or wait until he gets home so Yukie can ensure he doesn’t make a fool of himself. 

No, Akaashi knows how to text people. Akaashi can talk to Bokuto without Yukie. He types out a message and sends it without a second thought. 

**Sent to yUWUkie / 4:07 p.m.** **  
** **SOS bokuto texted back. He’s illiterate and stupidly hot what do i say???**

 **Sent to yUWUkie / 4:07 p.m.** **  
** **(1 Screenshot Attached)**

 **yUWUkie / 4:08 p.m.** **  
** **LMAO.**

 **Sent to yUWUkie / 4:08 p.m.** **  
** **ur no help**

 **yUWUkie / 4:09 p.m.** **  
** ***wink emoji* don’t leave him waiting**

He shakes his head. Okay, he can compose and send a text message, it’s not hard. He just sent 3 of them to Yukie and he’s already sent 1 to Bokuto, he can send another.

 **Sent to Bokuto / 4:11 p.m.** **  
** **I had to be up early for work, but I hope u slept well. Where r u playing next? I’d love to go to another 1 of ur shows if u want me there.**

His phone buzzes in response almost immediately. 

**Bokuto / 4:11 p.m.** **  
** **:D yay!!!! Vision sat @ 10:30. Would Lov 2 c u there again!!!!!!! not a weeknight again so**

 **Sent to Bokuto / 4:12 p.m.** **  
** **I’ll be there. Hopefully I can b a little bit closer to the front so u can see me**

 **Bokuto / 4:12 p.m.** **  
** **LOL! i saw u last time 2!! Back in the corner. Was sneaking looks b4 the show**

 **Bokuto / 4:12 p.m.** **  
** **Not in a creepy way. Not how I mean it**

 **Bokuto / 4:12 p.m.** **  
** **u were like >:( b4 the show srted hahahahahahahahahahaha **

**Bokuto / 4:13 p.m.** **  
** **sry what r u doing now????:)**

Akaashi has a feeling that this is a precise look into Bokuto and how he functions. Unapologetically, he sent 4 texts in a row all within a minute. He doesn’t think about the text he wants to send for 5 minutes and proofread it. Whatever he thinks, he sends. Akaashi’s cheeks hurt from smiling at his phone too much. 

**Sent to Bokuto / 4:15 p.m.** **  
** **omw home from work wby?**

He stares down at his phone, waiting for an instant text back like before, but it doesn’t come. Bokuto was the one who asked him the question in the first place and now he has disappeared. Akaashi laughs at the elasticity of the bassist. 

By the time he makes it home and changes out of his work clothes, Bokuto still has not texted back. There was only a chime when Yukie texted him to tell him she wouldn’t be home until late tonight, something about drinks with her friends. Akaashi sends back a quick “ok” and then goes back to waiting for Bokuto to text him back. 

This is ridiculous. He should not be sitting here, waiting for Bokuto to text him back. He puts his phone down, making sure the ringer is on to notify him of incoming texts, and then begins to make himself dinner. 

The thing is, he genuinely wants to know what Bokuto is up to. He wants to hear about his day and what he’s doing right now. Akaashi is not the obsessive type, not over guys at least, but he can’t even find enjoyment in watching his favorite show or playing video games right now. 

It’s not until Yukie comes in that he notices how late he’s been waiting for Bokuto to text back. It’s not as if he was incapacitated as he was waiting. In fact, he got a lot of things done today. The kitchen was sparkling clean, the laundry was washed, dried, and folded, the books on the living room shelves were organized, and he had even set his clothes out for tomorrow. 

Climbing into bed, Akaashi knows that Bokuto probably just had an insanely busy day and was able to text him before all of the craziness went down. He checks his phone one last time before putting it down on his nightstand, plugged into the charger. 

Right as he’s drifting off to sleep, his phone chimes, pulling him quickly out of his sleepy state. 

**Bokuto / 1:26 a.m.** **  
** **im abt to finally eat dnnr!!!! Sleep sckedule has been crzy w all these showsand prep 4 Them!**

“Yukie! If Bokuto hasn’t texted me back all day, should I wait to text him back?” Akaashi screams into the hallway. 

**yUWUkie / 1:27 a.m.** **  
** **absolutely not u idiot also stop screaming**

 **Sent to Bokuto / 1:28 a.m.** **  
** **that’s crazy. I’m about to go to sleep now. U should try to get some rest too after u eat. You can text me tmrw if u want to.**

 **Sent to Bokuto / 1:29 a.m.** **  
** **if ur not busy!**

 **Bokuto / 1:32 a.m.** **  
** **ok!!!:)))))!!!!!! sweat dreams!!!!!!B) zzz**

Akaashi laughs at the goodnight text. It made him feel a lot better that he wasn’t just ignoring him. He knew now that it wasn’t because he didn’t want to talk to him, he was just busy. 

* * *

Bokuto had not gotten home until nearly 4 am after finishing packing away all of the gear, having a few drinks with the crew members and band, grabbing a bite to eat, and finally making the journey back. Sporadically all throughout the night he was glancing down at his phone hoping to see an unknown number pop up, but it never did. 

Getting home at 4 am meant finally falling asleep at 6. And falling asleep at 6 meant that he didn’t wake up until 3 in the afternoon. This wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. Honestly, Bokuto’s schedule felt the most normal when there wasn’t one. After a horrible bet with Kuroo, he had tried to spend an entire week going to bed and waking up at the same time every day and decided he would never do that again. 

When he woke up at 3 pm, he didn’t mind much. He knew that he didn’t have anything to do on his mental agenda, save for possibly practicing the one part of the new song that he can’t quite get perfect. Probably would be in his better interest to feed himself also. But for now, social media is calling his name and refuses to let it go to voicemail. 

Scrolling through his personal social media at first, Twitter, Instagram, and the like, he checks his notifications and replies to comments. He then switches over to the band’s accounts, noticing quite a few new followers. All the while, he’s shifting and rolling around in his bed, hanging off the side of the bed, laying with his feet on the pillows. 

**A_Kaashi_K** , **OKURoo** , and **739 other people** liked your photo.

Bokuto immediately flips himself back upright, checking his messages app. **13 new messages.**

 **Unknown Number / 7:09 a.m.** **  
** **Hey Bokuto! It’s Akaashi. Had a great time at ur show last night! u guys were great. r u guys still in town?**

 **T H E B A N D ( & co) ** **  
** **Kenma (10:32 a.m.): new shirts r in.** **  
** **Kenma (10:32 a.m.): (1 Image Attached)** **  
** **Kuroo >:) (10:43 a.m.): WOOOO. Those look so good** **  
** **Tsukki!! (10:46 a.m.): looks good kenma.** **  
** **Kenma (10:52 a.m.): will roll em out at nxt gig** **  
** **Kuroo >:) (11:01 a.m.): Sounds good** **  
** **Kenma (11:03 a.m.): should i wait for bokutos thots? or just go frwrd w them?** **  
** **Tsukki!! (11:05 a.m.): bokuto has no thots in his head or otherwise.** **  
** **Kuroo >:) (11:06 a.m.): LOL** **  
** **Kuroo >:) (11:06 a.m.): Just go forward w them he’ll like them**

 **Kuroo >:) / 12:08 p.m.** **  
** **Tsukki and I went to go get lunch and run some errands bbl**

 **Tsukki!! / 2:49 p.m.** **  
** **kurros phone died. someone didnt charge it last night like an idiot. we’ll be back soon.**

He can’t even take a second to reply to the group chat or Kuroo and Tsukki. Akaashi texted him back and he liked the show. Bokuto jumped out of bed, changing into clothes that were acceptable for 3:40 in the afternoon. He has a pep in his step that usually doesn’t come unless it’s the day of a show or until after he’s eaten.

He should eat. On his way down the stairs into the kitchen, he opens the message from Akaashi, types out a reply, and sends it without a second thought. He doesn’t get a reply until he’s finished making food for himself. _Akaashi hopes I slept well_ , Bokuto thinks to himself. _And he liked the show_. So Bokuto invites him to another one. 

When he gets the text back that Akaashi will be in attendance, he knows that he has to find time to practice that part of the new song. He also cannot stop feeling lighter than the air surrounding him. He hasn’t been this excited for a show in some time. His giddy feeling and smile on his face encourage his next 4 successive texts. As he’s sending the final text, wondering about what Akaashi is doing right now, Kuroo and Tsukishima come in through the front door. They’re talking about something, but Bokuto can’t really hear them. He’s much more concerned with what Akaashi is doing. 

“Bo, Bo, what do you think abo-,” Kuroo sets down his bag on the table next to Bokuto, but he doesn’t even flinch. He’s staring very intently at the phone in his hands. “Bokuto, hello?” He waves a hand in front of his face.

“Who are you talking to?” Tsukishima asks, hitting the back of Bokuto’s head when he doesn’t answer.

“That guy from the coffee shop. He texted me,” Bokuto still doesn’t look up from the phone, smiling at the image in his head of Akaashi walking home from work. He goes to type in a reply when the phone is snatched from his hands. He looks up and Kuroo has the phone in his hands, reading the text messages. Even the saddest puppy dog eyes couldn’t persuade Kuroo to give his phone back. 

“How much damage did you do already?”

Bokuto furrows his brows, “What are you talking about?”

“4 texts messages in a row. Bokuto, no,” Kuroo is shaking his head, “Now you can’t text him back until late.”

“What- Why?”

“You’re coming off way too strong. You’re going to scare him away,” Kuroo shrugs as if to nail in the _Duhhhh_. 

Bokuto cocks his head to the side and his eyes convey to Kuroo how confused his mind is. He’s had a lot of girls, and even some guys, that were interested in him and have tried to talk to him. He’s been interested in a handful of them in return, but he rarely, if ever, has he done something about it in the same way he’s done with Akaashi. None of them have ever really felt the same as Akaashi.

Kuroo, on the other hand, has had his fair share of boyfriends and girlfriends and one-night stands and long relationships. He has much more experience than Bokuto does, so he listens. He doesn’t want to come off too strong and scare Akaashi off; it’s the last thing he wants to do.

“When, uh, when do I text him back then? He asked me what I was doing? Do I just ignore him?” 

“Yeah. Then, when you text him back later, he’ll be so excited to talk to you and for you to reply.” 

Tsukishima has not moved since he walked into the kitchen. His jaw is hanging and he looks truly offended. “Are you an idiot?” 

“Shut up, Tsukki. How many relationships have you been in? How much do you know about guys?” Kuroo waves at him dismissively. 

“That doesn’t matter. I kno-.”

“That’s what someone who doesn’t have relationship experience says,” Kuroo smirks as he cuts him off. Bokuto is looking at the two of them. He makes a valid point.

“Fine. Fine. Do what you want to do. I’m going to work on the new stuff I’m writing,” Tsukishima leaves the kitchen, but not without a dramatic eye roll and a huff.

The rest of the day goes by with Bokuto repeatedly pulling up the messages app and Kuroo constantly taking his phone away from him. “What about now? It’s been ___ minutes/hours.” Bokuto would not stop whining. 

It’s not until after 1 in the morning that Kuroo finally says, “Yes. Okay. I think it’s been long enough. Tell him you were busy. Act cool, y’know? Tell him tha-.” _Woosh_. “Did you send it already?” Bokuto is beaming again, staring intently at his phone waiting for Akaashi to text him back. “Well, I mean,” Kuroo reaches out to Bokuto, putting his hand on his shoulder, “It might take him a little bit of time to reply. It’s been almost 10 hours since he texted you las-.”

 _Ding ding_. Bokuto beams even brighter, but the brightness fades as he reads the reply. “Akaashi is going to sleep. He did have work earlier. He texted me at like 7 in the morning.” He had wasted the entire day waiting to text Akaashi. “But! He does want me to text him tomorrow! I’ll wake up early and-.”

“What!? Are you trying to undo all the waiting you’ve done today? You can’t text him tomorrow. He’s going to the show on Saturday, you can text him before the show,” Kuroo stops and thinks for a minute, “Maybe text him once or twice tomorrow.”

“Idiots,” Tsukki calls out from his room down the hall. 

Dramatically, he sighs defeated, placing his chin on his hands. “What am I supposed to do tomorrow,” he whines. 

“You can get up before 3 in the afternoon, maybe clean, go out with Tsukki and I, do the laundry you’ve been neglecting for weeks, practice the new song for the show on Saturday, I can keep going. Do you want me to keep going?” 

Bokuto shakes his head, sighing dramatically once again. “I’ll practice the song.”

“That’s it? Nothing else off the list?” 

He shakes his head again. The least he can do is listen to Akaashi’s dying (he’s not dying) wish and go to sleep after he finishes eating. So he does. He kicks Kuroo out of his room, puts his pajamas on, and forces himself to go to sleep, thinking about the few texts he gets to send to Akaashi tomorrow.

* * *

Everyone at work today notices a shift in Akaashi’s mood. He says good morning to everyone, which isn’t out of the norm, but it’s the way he says it. It’s not a polite greeting, he actually means it. _Good_ morning. It’s accompanied by a smile that sits where a straight line normally is, especially this early in the morning. 

Bokuto hasn’t texted him yet, he notices on his lunch break, but it doesn’t tamper with his mood. Besides, the show is tomorrow. He must be really busy with his work and having to prep. In fact, he doesn’t even let it affect his mood when he notices that Bokuto still hasn’t texted him when he gets out of work. Last night he had even said to text him if he wasn’t too busy, which it seems that he is. 

Besides, the show is tomorrow. Thinking about it too much makes Akaashi’s stomach feel nauseous and his head feel light. It was one thing going to see them for the first time. He wasn’t sure what to expect, who the band was, and he hadn’t talked to Bokuto. Now, he was excited to see them perform again, but he was nervous to see Bokuto on stage and girls screaming for him on the floor. AND he told Bokuto that he would try to get closer to the stage, which means being next to those screaming girls. Yukie couldn’t even come with him because of a work event. 

_“I’m really sorry, Akaashi, I’ve had this stupid event planned for weeks. I wish I could. Snap some pics for me!”_

No mind. He was going to go and he was going to enjoy himself even more than last time. It was a good day. It was a good week. 

_Ding ding_. It was a really good day. 

**Bokuto / 5:59 p.m.** **  
** **Hey heyhey! vEry busy prppin 4 tmrw bu t wanted 2 msg u!!!! Hope ur day iz good! Excited 5 tmrmw?????? C:**

He thinks back to Yukie yesterday and the text message that told him to definitely not wait to reply just because he didn’t text back for a while. Thank God he had Yukie for guidance. 

**Sent to Bokuto / 6:02 p.m.** **  
** **Just abt to eat dinner at a reasonable time unlike some ppl lol. Im excited to see u guys tmrw! hows prepping?**

Akaashi doesn’t spend time sitting around for Bokuto to reply, though, no matter what he’s doing, it’s always in the back of his mind. When he finally gets a text back, it’s about time for Akaashi to start heading to sleep. 

**Bokuto / 1:29 a.m.** **  
** **I 8 dnr @ 9 tyvm!!. Prepping Is good!! Ben preaciticing the new song a lot tdy!! ULL hear it tmrw!**

It takes Akaashi a solid minute to decipher the entire message, but the first “sentence” specifically. “Ohhhhhhh,” he says aloud to himself, shaking his head and chuckling. He’s pretty sure he looks dumbfounded right now. “I ate dinner at nine.” 

He swears that Bokuto is three separate entities controlling one person. You have coffee shop Bokuto™, bassist Bokuto™, and texting Bokuto™. All three of them are so vastly different that if there wasn’t the small overlap of pure kindness and a sense of humor, he would be convinced that he was being catfished. While typing out a message, he can’t abstain from laughing unnecessary abbreviations and numbers and symbols that overtake Bokuto’s text. He’s not expecting to get a reply before going to sleep so he adds in a goodnight, but before he can send it, he gets another message.

 **Bokuto / 1:31 a.m.** **  
** **How was ur day akaashi?**

Akaashi is convinced that his heart flutters in response. A warmth climbs up his body from the tips of his toes to the tips of his ears. This simple message, only 5 words, void of typos, numbers, symbols or random capitalization, has Akaashi’s stomach doing flips. 

He deletes the message that he was going to send and composes a new one. It doesn’t matter if it’s coffee shop, bassist, or texting, Akaashi knows that Bokuto genuinely cares about how his day was. He doesn’t bore Bokuto with the details of his job or what he had for dinner, though, he’s also not certain that Bokuto would turn down these details. Instead, however, he thinks that following Bokuto’s lead in simplicity is key here. 

**Sent to Bokuto / 1:32 a.m.** **  
** **My day was great, even better now tho. hbu?**

Once again, Akaashi doesn’t expect a quick response, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t receive one.

 **Bokuto / 1:33 a.m.** **  
** **Busy!!!!! But good and prducivte! ty:))**

 **Bokuto / 1:33 a.m.** **  
** **AND BETR NOW 2!!!**

 **Bokuto / 1:33 a.m.** **  
** **Isn’t it ur bedtime????? Zzzzzzz**

He absolutely missed getting consecutive buzzes from Bokuto’s notifications. He thinks for a minute before replying to the text. He should surrender and go to sleep. **I suppose so** , he types out onto his phone, but then quickly deletes it. If this was bassist Bokuto™ he was dealing with, he would be sweating and fumbling as he worries about whether the joke will land or make Bokuto feel bad, but this wasn’t bassist Bokuto™. This was a guy who typed and _sent_ , “I 8 dnr @ 9”. 

**Sent to Bokuto / 1:35 a.m.** **  
** **What? U don’t want to talk to me?**

 **Bokuto / 1:36 a.m.** **  
** **:OOOOOO no!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Butt u ned sleep! Zzz i’ll txt u tmrw b4 the show!!!!!**

 **Sent to Bokuto / 1:37 a.m.** **  
** **Deal. I suppose I should get to sleep. Need my beauty rest.**

Bokuto is obviously not thinking of Akaashi. How could Bokuto care about Akaashi and his sleep schedule when he sends the text he sends? Akaashi can barely think straight, reading over the text four times aloud. His face feels flushed and he knows that if Bokuto had said this to him in person, he would not have been able to stop himself from stammering. He reads the text one more time, making sure he read it correctly.

 **Bokuto / 1:38 a.m.** **  
** **Beauty rest? 4 what lol??? Uve got enough of that 4 the rest of ur life. You’re too pretty for beauty rest. Gn akkaashi!!**

It is now evident that Bokuto does not care about Akaashi’s sleep schedule and how tired he’s going to be tomorrow. Except, he can’t be tired tomorrow because tomorrow is the show. Instead, Akaashi is going to have to sacrifice valuable time doing other things before the show like spending extra time getting ready or calming his nerves for an extensive amount of time. Akaashi is convinced that Bokuto doesn’t care about any of this because now Akaashi cannot fall asleep. That text message, the thought of any one of the various Bokuto’s in his head sending _that_ text message, is something that Akaashi’s overactive brain refuses to stop mulling over. 

Akaashi cannot fall soundly asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	2. ch2 / vision

Waking up, Akaashi expects to feel a lot of things. He expects to feel excited for the show, which he definitely is. He expects to be nervous to see Bokuto again, which he also definitely is. But what he does not expect is the residing feeling of warmth in his chest from last night. At most, he thought that he might feel the heat prick at his cheeks when he reread it in bed the next morning, but he didn’t expect it to linger. The feeling of warmth, Akaashi assumes, is the reason that he’s not feeling as tired as he thought he would. 

He much prefers the warmth. 

Even though he’s woken up at a decent time void of the exhaustion he thought he would be filled with, Akaashi is still making mental notes of the tight schedule he has to follow leading up to leaving his house. He knows that he has to mentally prepare for seeing Bokuto again. He knows that he has to get ready, like _actually_ get ready. A large part of him is regretting his choice to not force Yukie to stay home with him for emotional support. 

He has a few things going for him today. He remembers to feed himself which is important. His shower is therapeutic, a small portion of his day that does not contribute, but rather takes away, from his brewing anxiety. After he gets out of the shower, there is a definite mood shift. Akaashi goes from feeling warm and calmed to rushed and stressed. 

His hair, which normally behaves to the best of its ability, is completely against him today, sticking up in every which way, similarly to the lead singer the other night. His mind starts to wander to things that he has no control over. _What if the train is late? What if he gets lost? What if there’s no late entry? That’s incredibly stupid. What if Bokuto doesn’t see him or doesn’t think that he came? What if he sees him and doesn’t care that he came? It’s not like he’s been very concerned with texting him recently anyways._

The obsessive thoughts are put on pause as his phone dings from the bathroom counter. 

**Bokuto / 7:04 p.m.** **  
** **Ehye heyhye!!!! kaashi! Can’t w8 2 CU tonit!!!!! And 2 hear our new sng!!!!!! :}**

Akaashi is not sure if Bokuto forgot the first letter of his name or if the absence of the letter meant Bokuto giving him a nickname. His heart decides that it’s the latter and it’s not budging. All of the thoughts that once occupied his brain have left, making room for the warmth once again. Bokuto wants to see him tonight and he can’t wait for Akaashi to hear their new song. 

Then, he’s reminded of the reason that he’s going to Vision. Yes, of course, he’s going to see Bokuto in a tank top again ( _duh_ ), but if all he wanted was to see Bokuto in a tank top, he would scroll through their Instagram for the 100th time. He didn’t just want to see Bokuto in a tank top. He didn’t even just want to watch Bokuto play the bass, though he could do that endlessly. He was going to Vision because he wanted to watch Crowlster, all of Crowlster, play live. He wanted to feel the vibrations creating waves to his fingertips and toes. 

**Sent to Bokuto / 7:06 p.m.** **  
** **I cant wait to see u either. Excited to hear ur new song:)**

The emoji is a small touch that surprises even Akaashi. He knows that he doesn’t typically use them, not to Yukie, not to anyone. Perhaps he wanted to make sure Bokuto knew how his face looked every time he texted him. 

* * *

If Kuroo would have known that he texted Akaashi 3 times in a row last night, he knows exactly how he’d react. “You’ve ruined all our progress,” Bokuto furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head back and forth mocking what Kuroo probably would have said. “You have to tell him that you hate him so he loves you more.” Bokuto, despite no one being around, says this all aloud and with grand gestures. 

Furthermore, if Kuroo found out that Bokuto called him pretty and asked him how his day was, therefore _not_ being “cool and breezy”, he’s not sure that he would have a phone right now. But he does have a phone right now and having a phone right now means that he can text Akaashi before he has to worry about setting up for the show and getting in some final moments of practice for the song.

Bass on his lap, arms drooped over the instrument, he’s texting Akaashi, just a few messages before focusing on practicing; he definitely has to focus on practicing, because Akaashi just told him that he’s excited to hear his new song. Then, Bokuto has one of the smartest ideas that he’s ever had, he thinks. 

He props the phone up on the desk, leaning haphazardly on a nearly empty water bottle and his wallet. He hits the record button, carefully as to not push the phone over, and then steps back and plays a few chords from the new song. The sound is deep and reverberant. Bokuto knows that this isn’t anything special on its own; only with Tsukishima and Kuroo can the song feel truly complete. He watches the video back once and then sends it.

There is not an immediate text chime in response, not even after 3 or 4 times the video length. It’s probably for the best. Who knows when Kuroo would be back? Besides, listening to it back, he knows that there were a few minuscule adjustments he could make before tonight.

* * *

If Akaashi could only watch one video for the rest of his life, this would be it. He’s not sure if he should take this as a sign to stay home and watch this on repeat or if this is a violent shove to go to the show and every other show Crowlster will ever play. 

He’s also not sure exactly why this video is entrancing him so heavily. Though, after watching it a few more times, he can pinpoint a few things that definitely help. Even with the sound completely off, the video is still so appealing to him. There’s the factor of his outfit, casual, just a regular band tee that fits him perfectly. Despite not being overly tight like the tank he had worn at Contact, you could see his arms and how buff they actually were up close. Bokuto’s face wasn’t in the frame, which Akaashi is secretly happy about because he’s not sure if he would’ve survived the video otherwise. 

He could not have handled Bokuto’s face, his hair, his look of concentration in addition to the way his fingers are curling around the neck of the bass. Each finger seems to be working in unison but at different paces. It’s exhausting Akaashi just watching him coil and relax his fingers as they slide up and down the neck while simultaneously plucking the individual strings and palming them as a whole. It’s captivating and it makes Akaashi wish, for the first time tonight, that the seconds on his watch would tick by faster.

* * *

The commute felt less annoying today. To get into the city, it typically takes him 25 minutes during the day and 45 minutes on a weekend night. His commute took only 40 minutes, leaving him more than enough time. He wasn’t checking his watch every 2 minutes; he had left the house 10 minutes earlier to account for the possible time variation. He wasn’t rolling his eyes when a group of bachelors were laughing for 3 entire stops. He wasn’t even checking his phone obsessively to make himself look busy. 

The club also feels less annoying today. He notes the slightly varied layout of the floor in comparison to Contact. It’s significantly larger, for one. There are a lot more people here than there were at Thursday’s show, and, as a result, quite a few more people on the floor near the stage. There’s also an added element of music to the scene. It’s not live and it’s not Crowlster, that’s for sure, but it’s loud compared to the tiny voices of the crowd. 

Akaashi thinks about buying a drink to calm his impending nerves and to fit in with every patron here with a beverage in his hand. Nothing hard, just a beer. It gives him a reason to explore the place further and allow himself to get familiar with it before making his way closer to the stage. Pulling his card out to give to the bartender, she politely declines after checking his ID, but still passes the beer to Akaashi. “Bokuto-san asked me to give this to you.”

A neat piece of paper, folded once horizontally, is passed to Akaashi who bows slightly and thanks her in response. Bokuto’s handwriting, and grammar, is far neater than Akaashi would have guessed. It’s a drastic change from his nearly indecipherable text messages. 

“Akaashi- Your drink is on me! Thanks for coming! Enjoy the show!” There is a small scribble of a smiley face next to his signature. He tucks the note safely into his pocket. He thought that it would be the drink that gave him the confidence to maneuver his way through the crowd towards the front, but it’s not. It's the small piece of paper tucked inside of Akaashi's front pocket, a gentle reminder that Bokuto does, indeed, want him here. 

The crowd of people is just as intimidating up close as it was when he was at the bar. Just like at Contact, most of the people in the crowd are there with someone else. Those that were not there with someone else have made friends with the strangers surrounding them. (Perhaps it's the common interest of music that brought them together). 

If Akaashi wasn't as nervous as he was, he might even consider doing the same thing, but the only focus that he had right now was politely moving towards the stage. Most people let him through without a problem, too concerned with their own conversations to care about a single guy scooching past them. Other people are a bit more stubborn, eyes glued to the stage, talking only in small sentences to their company. Akaashi makes sure to avoid those people.

When he's in a spot that feels right, not too far from the stage, but not pushing past the people that _really_ want to be as close to the stage as possible, he stops. He surveys the area, particularly the people directly around him. He can hear their voices as they talk over the loud pop music blasting throughout the venue. 

The people in front of him are talking about how excited they are to see Crowlster. They've followed them on Instagram for the past 6 months and finally made the trip to come see them. There are four of them in total. 

"Ah! I'm just so excited. I can't believe we're going to be able to see Kuroo up _close_."

"Oh my god, I know. I can't even take it. I can’t wait. He's so hot. He's going to be looking right at us."

"What about Tsukishima, though? That drummer does things to my brain, I swear."

They're all giggling and Akaashi is thanking the Gods above that they haven't talked about Bokuto yet. If he heard his name come out of their mouth, he doesn't know what he'd do. He gets warm just thinking about it. It's daunting, being surrounded by people that look up to these 3 guys when he is crushing very hard on one of them in particular. 

"You guys can have them. I'm most interested in the bassist."

Akaashi seconds that. He is also now aware that it’s not just the alcohol that is making his face feel heated. His doubt is looming. _Is he just another fan that thinks he’s special and has a crush on a guy in a band who plays the bass?_

“He looks so good in that tank top oh my gosh.” They all giggle and Akaashi can feel it on his spine. “I would kill just to-“

He decides to focus on another conversation.

The people behind him are laughing about someone from their high school that they haven’t talked to in a while. It’s a much more palatable conversation for Akaashi to fixate on until the lights go down. 

It might have been because of the larger venue size, the more ample crowd in which Akaashi was in the middle of, or the better time slot, but the aura when the lights go down is completely different. There's still the excitement and anticipation, but it's different. The lights stay down for much longer. Akaashi thought they would come up to show an announcer or Kuroo to welcome the show. He's in the middle of a chanting and cheering crowd that was enjoying itself to the best of its ability. 

Akaashi thinks the lights will come up first, but they don’t. At the bare minimum, he assumes that Tsukishima will count them in, but that doesn’t happen either. 

All at once, the music begins like running full force off of a cliff. Anticipation, barreling forward fast, and a sudden drop and impact. It’s dark for nearly 30 seconds while they continue to play forcefully all at once. With sight out of the picture, Akaashi can really focus on the sounds that they’re making. He can hear the thumping of the drums, the addition of the guitar, and the deep vibrations of the bass. His heartbeat skips thinking about Bokuto on stage under all the darkness. 

But he doesn’t have to think about Bokuto under the darkness anymore, because the lights have gone up and Bokuto, who was tucked neatly back in the right corner at the Contact show, is center stage. Akaashi is thanking the Gods for the second time tonight as Bokuto is concentrating on his own fingers picking the strings and not Akaashi’s awestruck face staring up at him. The people around him are screaming, but Akaashi is fixated on how close he is to Bokuto and the overwhelming sound coming from Crowlster. Being in the center of the floor meant that the people around him were louder, yes, but it also meant that the music was stupefying. 

As the opening song ends, Bokuto drifts back to the corner as Kuroo steps up to the center mic. The two girls in front of him are jumping up and down and yelling at the lead which earns a wink from the guitarist. 

“We’re Crowlster! Thank you for coming tonight!” He pauses long enough for people to cheer. “We’ve got a great set tonight, including a new song!” And as abruptly as the first song started, the next one starts too. 

There’s a familiarity, as time goes on, to most of the songs. Akaashi finds himself singing along with the chorus of a few of them. Even on the songs that he can’t sing the lyrics to, he can hum and sway in time to. 

He’s enjoying himself, just as he said he would, more than he did for the first show. If Bokuto invites him to another, he imagines he will enjoy himself even more. He’s finding a good balance between enjoying himself and the music and watching Bokuto’s fingers pluck the strings in real-time. 

He’s not wearing the same band tee that he was earlier. He’s changed since then into another similar, but not the same, tight-fitting tank top. At Contact, he had cursed himself for not being closer. He’s never satisfied, because he still wishes he was even closer. Akaashi can see the muscles in his arms, but he wants to feel them. 

His hair is sticking straight up like last time. Akaashi catches himself dazing off, thinking about coffee shop Bokuto™ again. If there were a table to lean on, his chin would be in his hand and he would be daydreaming. 

Kuroo’s voice, devoid of any music backing it, pulls him out of this trance. “Alright! This is our last song of the night! You’ve been fantastic!! Thank you so much!!!” 

_This is the new song,_ Akaashi thinks as he hears the reverberated chords from the bass. They sound incredible together, each element so strong separately, but even stronger together, but Akaashi is hung up on the resonant sound of the bass and the intense focus on the man playing it. 

He can’t take his eyes off of Bokuto’s fingers and, it seems, neither can he. The concentration on his face is unmatched as he flawlessly executes the part in the song that he sent him a video of earlier. It sounds more polished now than it did 3 short hours ago. 

When the song is over, Akaashi is filled with leftover adrenaline and newfound emptiness. He wants them to keep going; he wants Bokuto to keep going just for him. The band thanks the crowd for the last time and ducks backstage. 

Most people are pushing to get out of the venue quickly as the lights return to normal, those that were there only to watch the band perform. Others are leaving shortly after, noticing the time getting later and later. There’s also the group of people that decide to leave after the aforementioned groups because the scene is dying down. 

Akaashi is able to watch all of these groups leave from a high top table at the side of the bar because he gets a text almost immediately after Bokuto leaves the stage. 

**Bokuto / 12:07 a.m.** **  
** **HEYHEYYHEYY! HOPE U ENJYD SHOW!!!! STICK ARND AND I CAB CMENSAY HEYHEYHEY!!!!!**

Akaashi was nervous all over again thinking about not just seeing Bokuto live, but now _seeing_ him, without a screen in between them, without a stage in between them, without a burning hot latte in between them. He spends most of his time waiting by scrolling mindlessly through his phone. Without this, he would have been fidgeting the entire time. It does a pretty good job taking his mind off of it, for a while at least.

The first time he checks his watch, it’s almost 1 a.m. He hasn’t heard anything from Bokuto, but he doesn’t mind waiting, it’s not like he had any plans otherwise. By nearly 2 a.m., the crowd has calmed down enough for Bokuto to sneak out to see Akaashi. Akaashi doesn’t really notice him sneaking out from the right of the stage at first. Bokuto definitely notices Akaashi. 

He had been stealing glances at Akaashi in the crowd all night. Many times during the show, he would look down just to see how happy Akaashi looked, how pretty he looked. It was different than seeing him at the coffee shop or even at the first show. Here, he was much more animated. 

While waiting for the crowd to calm down, he was able to get cleaned up, letting his hair take a breath from all the product in it. The result was a fluff that was in between coffee shop Bokuto™ and bassist Bokuto™. 

“Hey hey hey!” His voice startles Akaashi at first, just the sheer volume in comparison to the declining sounds of the club. After the shock of the volume subsides, the closeness of Bokuto is what startles him. He’s stuck his hand out, properly this time, for a handshake. He accepts this time, seeing as Bokuto has now picked up on the correct social cues. That thought doesn’t last very long.

Bokuto uses the grip to pull Akaashi into a half hug for only a moment. “Thanks for coming!” he says, far too close to Akaashi’s ear to get out of his head, before pulling back away. Akaashi adds his smile to the long list of things he can look at forever.

“You guys were great. The new song is incredible.” Akaashi’s voice is much stronger than he expected it to be, so he braves on. “First time debuting, yeah?”

“Yeah! It was so much fun! Probably a huge upgrade to the video that I sent you!” Bokuto is enthusiastic in his speech, talking with his hands, and smiling so wide that his teeth don’t touch together. 

When Akaashi thinks back to the video (and how many times he rewatched the video), he can’t stop himself from feeling that familiar warmth spread throughout his chest and to the tips of his ears. It most definitely was not a huge upgrade. It was a separate experience, yes. It was still a positive experience, but it was definitely not a huge upgrade. Akaashi wants to throw flirty remarks at Bokuto, explaining that the video was the highlight of his night, but his twisting stomach does not permit that to happen. 

“The new song is incredible,” Akaashi repeats himself. He’s mentally scolding himself, telling himself that the new song may have sounded incredible, but he sounds so stupid. His own voice is quickly quieted by Bokuto’s boisterous laugh, so contagious that Akaashi is practically giggling in response. 

“Y’know, I’m starting to think that you think the new song is incredible.” If someone else was on the other side of that remark, he might have let the embarrassment sink into his skin, but it wasn’t someone else. It was Bokuto, this attractively genuine guy in front of him who immediately wraps an arm around Akaashi’s shoulder and follows with, “No really though, thank you.” He unhooks his arm, taking his place back right in front of him. “Thank you for the kind words about the song and for coming.”

Akaashi can barely look Bokuto in the eyes. He’s never really been one to shy away from a usual compliment, but this isn’t a usual compliment from a usual person. Bokuto exudes confidence and carelessness (in a good way). Though, if Akaashi can’t accept the compliment and face Bokuto with a smile, he can still use the good ‘ol tactic of dismissing and thanking. 

“It’s really nothing. Thank you for inviting me.” He wants to ask Bokuto about his next show, but he doesn’t want to be impolite and pushy.

“Of course! It was really cool to see you on the floor instead of in the back corner. The next show isn’t for another week, but if you come to the next one, you can get even closer. You seemed like you were having more fun this time, I think.” Bokuto is rambling at this point, but Akaashi doesn’t mind; he just likes listening to him talk. 

This is exactly like Bokuto, basically reading his mind and squashing every worry in his obsessive brain. Akaashi reminds himself for the 4th time today that Bokuto does want him here. “I would love to come to another show,” the strength is back, but the insecurities underneath the strength still demand a voice. “If you’d have me there, of course.”

“I don’t think it would feel right if you weren’t there.” Bokuto flirts so shamelessly, so effortlessly. _That is flirting, right?_ Akaashi is now unsure if Bokuto knows that he’s flirting. No matter the intention, he’s still affected by it. 

“Then I’ll be there.” He remembers texting Bokuto™ and the text from last night where Bokuto called Akaashi pretty. If Bokuto can stand here, flawlessly, and, knowingly or not, compliment and flirt with Akaashi, then Akaashi can joke with Bokuto. “For you, of course. Don’t want your own show feeling off.”

It is so worth it. Bokuto has been smiling all night, on stage, and a foot away from him now, but the smile has changed, evolved, into a knowing smirk. There is nothing stopping Akaashi’s heart from literally beating completely out of his throat. This wasn’t a look of someone who was oblivious, but thoughtful. Bokuto’s eyes narrowed slightly and the right corner of his mouth tugged upwards. Akaashi has never wanted to kiss a human being more.

“How kind of you, Kaashi.”

He might actually melt. “That’s just who I am.” Bokuto chuckles, getting slightly closer to Akaashi. If this is a game of chicken, Bokuto will win. Each millisecond that goes by with Bokuto slowly shortening the gap between them, Akaashi can feel his breath getting more and more irregular. “So, a week, huh? Do you usually have that much time between shows?”

Bokuto pulls back a bit and Akaashi is both relieved and deeply saddened. He changes pace right alongside Akaashi. “Sometimes, but it’s nice when it happens. I’ll have to help Tsukki with his new song concepts and keep up with practice, but it’s not as hectic.” 

“Not as hectic sounds nice. Maybe you’ll have more time to text,” Akaashi lets it slip. He couldn’t help it, but he can regret it. Or, rather, he did regret it for half of a second. All night Akaashi has worn the adulation-caused blush. He’s been the victim every time; every time except this one. Bokuto runs a hand through his hair, hiding the aversion of his gaze, widened eyes, and burning cheeks. He almost apologizes, _almost_.

“I- Yeah, definitely. I-.” In Bokuto's attempt to find his words, they’re interrupted. 

“Bo! Hey! It’s almost 2:30! Can you help us finish up back here?” Akaashi notices Kuroo as he calls from on the stage. 

“Yeah! I’ll be right there!” He looks almost alleviated, not having to finish that conversation. To Akaashi, it seems like Bokuto is nervous about texting him more frequently. To Bokuto, however, it was trying to explain to Akaashi that he wishes he could text him every minute of the day until he gets completely sick of him, never wanting to talk to him again, but can’t because he doesn’t want to seem too desperate. 

“I gotta go, Kaashi, but I’ll text you! It was great seeing you!” Bokuto doesn’t try to go for an awkward handshake, high-five, or half-hug, just a simple wave as he turns to leave. Akaashi is grateful for the lack of this awkward encounter at least. He is also grateful for his eyes and the fact that Bokuto jogs away instead of walking.

* * *

When Bokuto walks backstage, he finds Tsukishima packing away his equipment, almost finished. In fact, nearly everything is packed up already. He shoots a questioning look at Tsukishima who nods towards the door where Kuroo stands. “You told him to stick around?! That sets us back like 42 steps!” 

Tsukishima does not miss a beat, “How many steps are there?”

“Ha ha,” Kuroo mocks and narrows his eyes at the salty blonde. “There are 100 steps actually.” He points a finger to the sky to punctuate his statement. “The first step is birth, the second step is self-actualization, the thi-.”

“Do not say another word or I will kill you.”

“You asked.”

Bokuto is listening intently to the conversation in front of him, taking both sides equally as seriously, when he realizes that the only reason Kuroo pulled him back was to get him to stop talking to Akaashi. 

“No, duh,” Kuroo says after Bokuto pouts his newfound realization. “You’re jeopardizing the relationship! Comin’ on too strong!” 

Tsukishima scoffs and though he is facing the other way, Bokuto knows he’s rolling his eyes. “But, he likes to talk to me.”

“And he’ll like to talk to you even more if you don’t talk to him. It’s simple psychology,” Kuroo taps on his head and then Bokuto’s. 

“It’s most definitely not,” Tsukishima pipes in.

“What do you know, Tsukki? Call me when you get 9 phone numbers in one night.” 

Bokuto is trying to focus on the conversation at hand. Typically, he would add to the banter, either siding with Kuroo or Tsukki and laughing with them, but he doesn’t have the brainpower to do that. He knows, ( _thinks)_ , that Kuroo knows what he’s talking about. He knows that he’s too impatient for his own good, always has been. 

“He told me to text him more,” Bokuto mumbles. 

“And you will,” Kuroo pauses, letting Bokuto get excited for only a moment before continuing, “in 5 days.” 

* * *

Akaashi doesn’t get a consistent text back for the next 5 days. Yukie keeps telling him that Bokuto might just be busy, but he knows that it’s not true. He knows that Bokuto specifically told him that he wouldn’t be that busy before the next show. She changes pace, telling him that Bokuto is probably too dumb to remember how to use the buttons on his phone. At least this one makes him laugh. 

Truthfully, he doesn’t like any of these answers, not even when Yukie tells him what is probably the closest thing to the truth. “He probably thought he wouldn’t be busy and something came up or he grossly underestimated his schedule.” He doesn’t like any of the answers or excuses because none of them make Bokuto text back any quicker. 

Akaashi is grateful for work and the extra hours that his boss gives him when he asks politely. Keeping busy is the one thing that is keeping him sane. He can’t imagine if all he was doing was sitting around waiting to get a text from Bokuto and to send texts back. 

Bokuto still sends him texts, maybe 2 a day. Usually once in the morning to tell him that he hopes that he has a good day and once at night to apologize and tell him that he hopes his day was good. 

By the 4th or 5th day, Akaashi is feeling drained and, more so than that, he’s feeling stupid. There are a lot of thoughts that race through his mind as a result of Bokuto’s lack of texts. He thinks that he’s gotten his hopes up, thinks that he was just another fan with a crush, thinks he read too far into things, thinks that Bokuto doesn’t even know what he was doing to Akaashi, thinks about how Bokuto hasn’t really ever texted Akaashi consistently, thinks about the comment that he made to Bokuto at Vision before Kuroo called him backstage, thinks that he’s made Bokuto uncomfortable in some way. He’s not sure how many of those thoughts are the truth, but right now it’s almost 4 in the morning and Bokuto still hasn’t sent him a goodnight text. Right now, the darkness almost feels as suffocating as his obsessive thoughts. 

He gets a signature Bokuto bedtime text at 4:18 a.m. It’s almost crippling, the way that his chest begins to feel lighter as his phone screen lights up. The text is stupid and almost illegible, but it's Bokuto. 

**Bokuto / 4:18 a.m.** **  
** **hHEY Kaashi!!!!!! hop ur day ws rly good 2dy!!!!!!B)**

Akaashi can't help himself. His day was not really good today. His day started okay, but work was hard and stressful, his lunch break was cut short, his anxiety was feeling extra cumbersome today, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get rid of this weight on his shoulders. 

**Sent to Bokuto / 4:19 a.m.** **  
** **Not great honestly but ill be ok.**

He's gotten used to not getting a text back. He doesn't expect to get a text back. Usually, when Bokuto sends his night text, Akaashi will say goodnight and that's that. 

Tonight, he gets a text back almost immediately. 

**Bokuto / 4:19 a.m.** **  
** **No good??? y?**

This takes Akaashi back a few paces; so much so that he doesn't know how to respond. All he's wanted for the past week is to text Bokuto in between his monotonous days and nights, maybe even plan to hang out. Now, he's finally getting the timely responses that he wants and he feels bad. 

**Sent to Bokuto / 4:21 a.m.** **  
** **Nbd. no worries.**

 **Bokuto / 4:23 a.m.** **  
** **Oh OK Kaashi. hope u feel better**

He feels bad for wanting the texts so excessively, feels bad for practically guilting him into talking to him at 4:19 in the morning. Akaashi sets his phone down without responding and tries to find enough peace of mind to fall asleep.

* * *

Bokuto is miserable. All he wants to do is text Akaashi, but Kuroo has been keeping a close eye on him. “Patience, my young pupil,” Kuroo would say when he saw Bokuto intensely staring at his phone.

He knows that he should be more patient. Good things do come to those who wait, after all. But he also knows that he’s feeling happiest when he’s texting Akaashi back and when he’s reading Akaashi’s texts to him. 

When Bokuto sends his goodnight text, he almost puts his phone away for the night immediately after. He’s glad he doesn’t. Hearing that Akaashi has had a bad day makes his heart feel heavy. Each good morning and goodnight text Bokuto means wholeheartedly. When he says that he hopes Akaashi has a good day, he means it. 

Kuroo might not have responded if it was a girl he was trying to get with, but Bokuto isn’t Kuroo. It doesn’t matter how “over-the-top” he looks, he wants to hear about Akaashi’s bad day and he wants to make him feel better.

There’s a naivety to Bokuto’s expectations of how Akaashi will text back. He knows that the last time that he asked Akaashi how his day was, they shared a quick, but crucial, moment in their relationship. Despite his sparse texts, Bokuto just assumes that Akaashi will text back in a similar fashion, telling Bokuto what’s wrong, venting to and confiding in him.

 _Nbd. no worries._ He reads this message over and over again. Bokuto is not one to think out his texts and what he wants to say. He’s never checked, nor cared about, the grammar in his text messages in the entire time he’s owned a cell phone, but his next text is important. Though he wants him to confide in him and to feel better, he knows that he can’t force it. Moreover, he doesn’t deserve to be confided in after how he’s distanced himself from Akaashi this week. 

There are a handful of texts that he types out, but none of them feel right. Some feel too intrusive, others feel too relaxed. He hopes that the text he settles on seems genuine to Akaashi, because it really, truly is. He doesn’t push Akaashi to tell him how he’s feeling, he just wants him to know that he wants him to feel better.

He’s anticipating a response for the rest of the night, staying up as late as he can to make sure he’s there for Akaashi if he decides that he can’t sleep and does need to vent. Not receiving another text from Akaashi is different than when they normally don’t talk. _This is what Akaashi feels like every time I don’t text him back_ , Bokuto thinks. This single thought keeps Bokuto up even later, past a plausible time that Akaashi would have even been awake. 

During these hours, he doesn’t go to Kuroo, telling him how stupid his plan was. He doesn’t rush into Tsukishima’s room and pout about how wrong Kuroo was. He doesn’t want the comfort of his friends or to be around people right now. Or, at least, he doesn’t want to be around anyone that isn’t Akaashi. The sun is nearly completely up by the time Bokuto is ready to go to sleep.

 **Sent to Kaashi!!! / 9:12 a.m.** **  
** **Imsorry ur day wasnt good ystrdy. Hope 2day is btr!**

* * *

The day before the show, the day immediately following Akaashi’s bad day and the two’s, for lack of a better word, unusual encounter, Bokuto is replying every few hours to Akaashi’s previous texts. It started with a text way earlier than Bokuto had ever texted him before and continued throughout the day with still sporadic, but closer together, texts.

Even with the increase in texts that Akaashi is getting, he’s still contemplating not going to tomorrow’s show. The venue is a bit farther, the ride is a bit more expensive, he feels conflicted about seeing Bokuto on stage, Yukie can’t even come along for emotional support, something about “another work event, but this is the last one for a while, I swear. The next one, I promise.” In the midst of his contemplation, his phone buzzes.

 **Bokuto / 6:05 p.m.** **  
** **U r still cmnig tmrw nite, rite????**

There’s Bokuto and his incredible powers to simultaneously read Akaashi’s mind and try to put his insecurities and doubts to rest. Typically, this text would have put his insecurities and doubts to rest instantly. This is heavily due to the fact that _typically_ his main drive behind possibly not going would be his own obsessive thoughts telling him that Bokuto didn’t want him there. This time, however, it wasn’t his own obsessive thoughts, or, rather, his obsessive thoughts weren’t the cause, but the effect. 

Bokuto hasn’t been texting him back all week, even though he had said he would. None of it feels fair. Akaashi knows that they’ve only been talking for a few weeks, but he’s seen the look in Bokuto’s eyes when Akaashi jokes with him, has heard the laugh that Akaashi pulls from him. It’s all so similar to watching him on stage. 

Akaashi’s doubt sets in once again, telling him that he’s reading too much into it. He closes his eyes, feels the doubt and the worry in his mind and tries to fixate on it. The only way to combat it is to face it head-on. He remembers the pout on Bokuto’s face when they first met, his scrawled number on the side of his coffee cup, the way he calls him “Kaashi”, how his hair has a mind of its own and how he’s never been able to touch it. 

The only way to combat this feeling is to face it head-on. 

He needs to know if he’s reading too much into it. If this was just a 2-week crush, then that’s fine, Akaashi will learn to deal with that, but he has to know. He deserves to know. 

**Bokuto / 6:13 p.m.** **  
** **M sry about not txting u Kaashi**

 **Bokuto / 6:13 p.m.** **  
** **Show wudnt feel rite w/0 u there**

The weight on his shoulders that’s been burdening him all week feels lighter. Albeit, it’s still there, but it feels less taxing. He thinks back to Vision and the note that's sitting on his dresser right now. He knows that Bokuto cares about him and enjoys his company, so why won't he just talk to him? Akaashi can't help but feel a certain degree of unwelcome when it comes to watching another show. 

“The only way to combat this feeling is to face it head-on,” he repeats aloud to no one but himself. 

He types out a short reply, nothing too enthusiastic or even jokey like last time, he doesn’t have the energy. He wishes that he did, that he could send Bokuto a million exclamation marks with heart emojis. 

**Sent to Bokuto / 6:20 p.m.** **  
** **I'll b there.**

When he says it, he means it. He can’t promise that he’ll be there cheering front row like last time or that he’ll even enjoy himself, but he’ll be there. He knows how he feels about Bokuto, the fast-forming crush that developed in seconds, and he wants it to evolve into something more. If it needs one last violent push from Akaashi to get it moving again, then, well, he wants to give it one more push.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks again for reading! feel free to leave a comment and a kudo they are more appreciated than you know!!! 
> 
> if you want to follow me on tumblr, send me a prompt or whatnot, you can find me @a-kaash-me-outside!
> 
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	3. ch3 / reverb

If everything would have gone according to plan, if Bokuto had just texted him back like he said he was going to, this would have been the best show yet. Akaashi would have left much earlier than he needed to so that he could be even closer to the front of the stage without annoying as many people. He would have had an amazing time staring up at Bokuto playing those familiar songs again.

Instead, Akaashi leaves much later than he anticipated. He’ll be lucky to get in the doors before they start their set, but he’s not as upset about it as he should be. He knows that he said he would give their relationship a solid push before deciding he’s trying too hard, but after spending the past week waiting for texts that didn’t come, the urgency in his step is gone. 

He knows that he won’t miss the whole, or even a majority, of their show. He’s thankful for this, at least. Despite everything that has happened this week, his heart keeps fluttering thinking about being back at one of Crowlster’s shows again. After going to two of their shows in less than a week, he kind of got used to the live music and bustling crowd. 

He missed the feeling of the music and the familiarity of the words. The closer he gets to the venue, the quicker his step is, the more he wants to be there listening to them play. 

Before he even walks through the doors, Akaashi notices that he’s missed the start of their set. The music is loud enough to be heard through the closed entrance to the venue. When he does step through the doors, the energy is underwhelming. Truthfully, as Akaashi got closer to the venue and more excited about being there, he thought that the moment he stepped foot inside, the annoyance and frustration with Bokuto not texting him back would vanish, but it’s still there. 

Each step that brings him closer to the stage makes his stomach feel a bit more uneasy. He told Bokuto that he would be here and now he’s here. He’s also definitely feeling a bit of regret seep in. There are a million other things that he could be doing with his Saturday night, but he’s here, all alone, like normal, to see a guy play bass that can’t even take two seconds from his day to text him back.

The closer that he gets to the stage, the shorter and smaller his steps become. There is still a lot of ground to cover between him and the massive crowd in front of him, but from where he’s standing, he can see Bokuto. That is more than enough reason to stop in his tracks. The worst part about this entire night wasn’t the long train ride or ticket price or the effort he put into making himself look and feel presentable. The worst part is how good Bokuto looked. 

_Is it possible that not talking to him for the entire week has somehow made him look even better?_ Akaashi cannot physically take his eyes off of Bokuto; his brain will not let him. If he looks away, he might miss a second of Bokuto running his fingers up and down the neck of the bass while biting his lip in the absorption of playing. The mental strength it takes for Akaashi to look away from Bokuto’s hips moving ever so slightly to the beat deserves an award, truly.

No, no. The worst part is not even that he looks so good, it’s that Akaashi can’t even enjoy it. No matter the reason- Akaashi thinks it’s partially that he hasn’t seen or talked to him in a week and partially that he looks a little bit less exuberant and a little bit more frustrated- he can’t sit and stare with a stupidly obvious smile that he hopes Bokuto can see. 

He wants to be alone. Everyone else in the venue, literally everyone, is close to the stage in some regard. Some leave space for elbow room or dancing room, but everyone, save for Akaashi and a small kid playing a game on his phone, is congregated in front of the stage. 

Akaashi decides not to torture himself any longer. He tucks himself near the back wall of the venue. He can still see the stage from here, but definitely not as well. Hopefully from here, he won’t be tempted to gawk at the guy who’s been ignoring him. 

Honestly, it’s nice back here, secluded from everyone else. _Except for this kid_. The music is a bit more dulled; you can’t feel it thumping in your chest as hard. It’s, dare he say, almost peaceful. It reminds him of being back at Contact for the first time with everyone else knowing how to have a good time and Akaashi not getting the memo. 

Except for that back at Contact, Akaashi was alone. Everyone else _should_ be having a good time, that’s why you come to a club on a Saturday night, so why is this kid in the back of the venue too? He isn’t bothering Akaashi, per se, but his presence is also definitely not helping. 

“Why aren’t you in the front with everyone else?” Akaashi yells over the loud music at the only other person in the vicinity. He hopes he takes it as an encouragement to make his way closer to the stage. 

“Why aren’t you?” His voice is small, but Akaashi can still hear it plain as day. 

“I- that- I don’t want to be up there.”

“Neither do I.”

“But you’re here, why not be closer to the front?” Akaashi knows his logic is flawed, seeing as he is also standing in the back of the room.

“Dude, do you hear yourself? And also see yourself?” During this conversation, the small-framed boy has only looked up from his phone once. Akaashi thinks that this is the only time that he’s even looked up from his phone, period. 

“Why are you even here?”

“Why are _you_ even here? We’re literally in the same predicament, you know that right?” He won’t answer a single one of Akaashi’s questions and it’s just adding to how absolutely annoyed that he’s feeling by being here. Every question that he asks him, he just asks right back to Akaashi. Yes, okay, they are in the same situation, Akaashi can admit that, but he doubts that they’re the same. Even if they are the same, Akaashi is asking every single one of these questions first, he just won’t answer them. 

He wants to end the cycle. “Because the stupid hot bassist invited me.” Akaashi crosses his arms over his chest, feeling his heartbeat angrily against the inside of his forearm. The kid is quiet, blinking at him twice. Akaashi uses this as an encouragement to continue on, noticing that he hasn’t really vented about this to anyone, not even Yukie seeing as she‘s been incredibly busy. “He invited me and so I came. And I didn’t really want to come because he’s been ignoring all of my texts, basically. I can’t even take a hint and realize that he probably doesn’t actually give a shit, I guess. ‘s just me getting my hopes up.” The kid’s eyes get wide. Akaashi knows he’s said too much. “Just forget it,” he mumbles, turning his attention back to the stage. 

This area that Akaashi thought was once almost peaceful now just feels awkward and hostile. It’s definitely not the way that he had planned, nor wanted, the conversation to go. The best-case scenario was him giving the other more confidence to go closer to the stage. If Akaashi had someone like that at Contact, he might have gotten closer to the stage. 

Now, neither of them is talking, but neither of them is moving. The boy is sitting there, eyes still on his phone, only his fingers moving across the screen. Akaashi has two options, neither of them seeming favorable. He can either stay here in awkward silence with someone who also doesn’t want to be there. There’s solidarity in phrasing it that way.

His other option is to walk closer to the stage, giving whoever this is his space, but seeing Bokuto more clearly and getting angry again at how absolutely perfect he looks tonight. Akaashi doesn’t end up moving. 

Between songs, the small guy speaks up again. “I’m sorry.”

The air between them feels lighter. Akaashi is thankful for this. “I didn’t mean to blow up like that,” Akaashi admits, “Was just trying to encourage you to get closer.”

He shakes his head, looking up at Akaashi for the second time this night. “I’ve been to a million of their shows. I’m just here to support Kuroo.” He nods towards the stage and gestures to the lead singer before looking back down at his phone. “Haven’t been to many gigs lately, too busy printing shirts.”

Akaashi nods politely in response, listening to the song that starts playing. It takes almost the entire song for Akaashi to realize what he’s done. He spends most of the song thinking that the guy’s reasoning is valid and that that’s all he had to say in the first place to get Akaashi to stop talking to him. As the song is ending, though, he puts the pieces together in his head.

Of course. Of course, this night could get worse. Why wouldn’t it get worse? Akaashi has now vented his stupid thoughts to the band’s merch guy, someone who most definitely talks to the band on a regular basis and is obviously good friends with their lead singer. He will probably tell Bokuto about how desperate and weird Akaashi is for being there. This will result in Bokuto never texting him again or texting him again out of pity. Akaashi can’t decide which one is worse.

As the songs continue, Akaashi can barely sit still, tapping his foot anxiously and wiping the sweat from his palms onto his jeans. He doesn’t know whether he should miserably stay throughout the rest of the set, sitting next to the person who is going to potentially ruin his love life, or if he should leave before the show is finished. Neither of them feel like the right decision.

By the time he’s built up enough courage to leave prematurely, Crowlster is on their last song. At this point, he might as well stay through their set and leave immediately after the lights come up. This gives him an entire song’s length to think about the situation at hand. Nothing has even happened. The merch guy is standing right next to him. He couldn’t have told Bokuto anything, yet Akaashi can’t stop thinking about every bad thing that they’re going to say about him. 

The second that Kuroo thanks the crowd for being there and for supporting them, Akaashi turns on his heel and walks quickly towards the exit, walking at the exact right pace for Bokuto to notice him only briefly, pushing through the clunky doors. 

* * *

Bokuto isn’t the only person to watch Akaashi walk out of the venue much quicker than he came in. Though Kenma hadn’t raised his head from his phone but 3 times during their conversation, as soon as the dark-haired guy began to leave, Kenma put his phone completely away. Kuroo didn’t even finish his sentence before the doors gently closed behind him. 

The only reason that Kenma had agreed to sit through the show in the crowd instead of backstage where he normally was is that Kuroo would not stop whining. “You’re never out front watchin’ us from the big stage.” “What if we look stupid? Who’s going to tell us?”

“You always look stupid,” Kenma pointed out, not paying much attention to Kuroo’s whining or his furrowed brows. 

“No- No, we don’t.”

“See, you won’t even take my criticism when I give it to you. Why bother?” 

“I cherish it so close to my heart, Kenma, please. Just go out there and sit in the back and tell us how the show looks from the audience’s perspective.”

“Can’t you just get one of those many, many, many girls to tell you their perspectives?” Tsukishima butted in, too invested in hurting Kuroo’s feelings to respect their conversation.

Kuroo scoffed, looking absolutely offended. “They just tell me how amazing and hot I am. I need a real opinion. It’s the only way we can grow as artists.”

“Tch. Artists,” Tsukishima clicked his tongue and stifled a laugh. 

“If you stop talking until the gig starts, then yes, I will go out in the audience and tell you guys each and every flaw that I can find, but I’m taking my phone.”

Kuroo’s eyes lit up, crinkles forming by the creases of his eyes as he shot Kenma a thumbs up. It was one of the best deals Kenma’s made in a while. It also proved to be very useful. Of course, not for watching and finding flaws for the band as a musical unit, but for finding flaws with the band as human beings. 

Kenma had recalled Bokuto and Kuroo talking about some guy that Bokuto was interested in and talking to. Was it this person in the back of the room with him? If this was him, what did they do to him? He had been one of the last people to come into the venue and the literal first one to leave, but he still came. He still came to support Bokuto because he had asked him to. 

With Bokuto’s blind following and Kuroo’s absolutely horrible way with potential love interests, Kenma knows that these idiots had something to do with the hasty exit the guy had made. As soon the band ducks behind the stage, Kenma makes his way to meet them. 

Opening the door to backstage, he sees Tsukishima taking off the tape from his fingers. He’s about to ask Tsukishima where his bandmates are when he hears Kuroo’s hyena laugh in the other room. He doesn’t stop to see who else is in the room, nor does he care.

“You guys are idiots. IDIOTS,” he accentuates it stronger the second time. Kuroo has turned his head to see who’s calling him such rude names. He blinks at him, mindless, obviously in the middle of a conversation with Bokuto who is sitting on the table with his phone in his hands. 

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Kenma points directly at Kuroo. Of course, it’s Kuroo. No one else would be feeding Bokuto such horrible advice about relationships. Kuroo still doesn’t respond, even with Kenma’s small, but accusatory finger promptly in his face, so Kenma pushes on, “How much damage have you actually done? What is it that you’ve done exactly?”

“I’m gonna need some more context here,” Kuroo says, standing upright to forgive the vanity of his weight.

Kenma brings his head to meet his hands, completely covering it. “There was a guy here, dark hair, pretty, left really fast, mentioned a,” Kenma air quotes his next words to ensure that Bokuto and Kuroo know they’ve come straight from the guy’s mouth and not Kenma’s, “stupid hot bassist who’s been ignoring all of his texts.”

Before he’s even done with his sentence, Kenma knows, though he never doubted himself, that all of his assumptions are absolutely correct. Bokuto’s face gives away any chance that Kuroo had of covering his ass. He can’t quite pinpoint the feelings that are showing on Bokuto’s face, all of the muscles within it thoroughly engaged in a mix of sadness, confusion, and anger.

“What did you guys do?” Kenma says, more defeated and empathetic than anything at this point.

Bokuto opens and closes his mouth several times, his eyebrows still tightly knit together right above his eyes which refuse to make contact with anything but the floor. Kenma watches the man responsible for it all and his disordered demeanor shift into a much more compassionate one. “His name’s Akaashi,” Kuroo explains, “Bo met him at a coffee shop the day we were performing at Contact.”

Kenma sits back, allowing the duo the chance to explain themselves, nodding for Kuroo to continue. “I was just telling,” Kuroo corrects himself, “advising Bo about how to talk to him, y’know?” Kenma just blinks in response, so Kuroo stumbles forward. “Y’know, just, like- I- We- I told him that he should ignore him, play hard-to-get.”

“How long did you go without text him?” Kenma asks, monotonously, guiding the conversation towards Bokuto. 

“Since the last show,” Bokuto is quiet in his response, something that rarely happens. Bokuto can’t think about anything right now except for the fact that he wants to text Akaashi a million times to make up for all of the texts that he’s refrained from sending. 

“Why would you listen to Kuroo?” Kuroo almost cuts Kenma off in protest, but Kenma shoots him a glare before he can even get a sound out.

“He knows what to do way better than I do, you know that! Kuroo always has girls an-,” Bokuto starts to explain himself, his reasoning behind listening to Kuroo, but Kenma interrupts him.

“How many girls does Kuroo keep, Bokuto?” Kenma can’t shoot his glare towards Kuroo fast enough before he lets out a whine and the beginning of an objection.

Bokuto thinks, and he thinks hard. He tries to remember every girl or guy that Kuroo has talked to in the past month alone and how long they had talked. The results were not stacked in his favor. “Not a lot, but-.”

“But what? Volume? Is that what you want with Akaashi?” The sentence hangs in the air well after Kenma has stopped speaking. It forces Bokuto to actually think about the situation as a whole, how he’s treated Akaashi, and what he wants with Akaashi. What does he want with Akaashi? 

Kenma would consider himself an introvert, a quiet one at that. He didn’t thrive off of being on a stage in front of hundreds of people like Kuroo, Bo, and Tsukishima did, but he was never the type to not speak his mind when it came to his friends and their bad decisions. This was especially the case when his best friend’s bad decisions and advice hurt his other friend’s blind trust and innocence. 

He knows that he’s gotten through to Bokuto when he’s silent, truly reflecting on what’s happened. The three of them sit in thoughtful stillness for a few minutes before Bokuto speaks again. “Was he mad at me?” The innocence in his voice almost breaks Kuroo, showing him how different Bokuto was from him, especially when it came to relationships. 

Kenma recalls their conversation, remembers Akaashi’s passion and annoyance seething from each word that he said. “Not mad,” Kenma shook his head gently, “anxious and invalidated.” He pulls these words straight from his own personal feelings and experiences. 

“That’s worse,” Bokuto mumbles, his hands bearing the weight of his sulking, hanging head. 

“You can fix it. You just need to never listen to Kuroo again.”

This doesn’t cheer Bokuto up like it normally would. He isn’t feeling hopeful in the slightest. He saw how quickly Akaashi had left right after they finished playing their last song. 

“He came, didn’t he?” Kenma offers. “Just…,” he pauses for a beat, looking for the right advice to give someone who is so evidently falling for someone, “Be yourself. Invite him to your next show and don’t listen to Kuroo when it comes to relationships, please. He’s never happy.”

“Hey! Me? You’re never happy! Always on your phone and sa-,” Kuroo puts his hands on his hips and tries to defend himself. Kenma and Kuroo start arguing, but Bokuto can’t pay attention to the verbal jabs that either are throwing at each other. He pulls his phone out, looking at how scarce his texts are to Akaashi. The part of him that has been drilling into his mind that he should not be overbearing is telling him to wait to text Akaashi. He almost listens to it. It’s second nature. Then he gets back to the texts that he sent Akaashi, how he had called him pretty and Akaashi’s instant responses despite not having been texted all day. 

**Sent to Kaashi!!! / 12:43 a.m.** **  
** **Hope U got hme safely.**

 **Sent to Kaashi!!! / 12:44 a.m.** **  
** **ND I Hope U Slep well 2nte**

 **Sent to Kaashi!!! / 12:44 a.m.** **  
** **& & I Hope U Njoyd the show Ty 4 Bing there 4 me**

 **Sent to Kaashi!!! / 12:44 a.m.** **  
** **Goodnight Kaashi.**

The suspense that Bokuto has been feeling all week is gone. He knows that as soon as he gets a text from Akaashi he can text him back. He keeps his ringer on loud just in case. 

* * *

Akaashi unlocks his front door at exactly 1:30, pushing it open and throwing his things onto the loveseat in the middle of their living room. He had gotten the four texts from Bokuto on the train ride back to his place, reading them all thoroughly and trying to ignore his itch to text him back and the irrational want to go back to the venue and talk to Bokuto until the sun rises.

How had tonight gone so horribly? 

Yukie had texted him while he was on the train and told him that she wouldn’t be home for another few hours and to not wait up for her. That means that Akaashi is all alone in the darkness of their house. It’s somehow worse than Yukie’s overbearing need to make sure Akaashi is okay. 

He would much rather Yukie be home, if only just to make him feel not as alone. 

Between the empty house, his silent cell phone, and the events of tonight playing in his head on repeat, Akaashi feels more hollow than he has in a long while. 

The only item of clothing that he bothers to shed before climbing into bed is his shoes. The rest of his uncomfortable outfit stays on. He’s too drained to change into pajamas. 

It doesn’t take long for the weight of everything to come crashing down on him. His entire body feels heavy, each limb contributing to the deadweight attached to him. His chest is the worst of all, simultaneously feeling void of anything, but filled with everything all at the same time. His center of gravity feels off as he curls into himself.

Akaashi falls asleep much faster than he thought he was going to, despite being painfully aware of his crippling exhaustion. He doesn’t even notice Yukie come into his room, put his belongings on his desk, and tuck him under his blanket or the few additional texts that he gets from Bokuto at ungodly hours. 

Everything that has happened tonight causes Akaashi to have the most sound, but somehow worst, sleep of his entire life. 

* * *

His Saturday had been used up completely by the taxing efforts of attending Bokuto’s show. His mental capacity was completely spent. All that Akaashi had was today, this lazy Sunday, to refresh his brain before going back to work on Monday. He had spent most of it with his phone in his hand but spent none of it actually composing and sending text messages with it. 

“Yukie, what’s the point?” Akaashi has migrated from annoyance to sulking now. “There’s no way that he’s just texting me because he wants to text me, but I don’t want to stop texting him, but I don’t want to keep getting all of his pity texts.” He’s not sure if he’s grateful that Yukie is there or if her mere presence is enabling Akaashi’s further sulking and whining. 

The television is creating a low murmur that Akaashi has not paid attention to once today, despite sitting in front of it all morning. He’s much more interested in the various ways that he can fit his body into weird positions on the couch. Currently, his legs are crossed and his back is lying flat against the cushions, his head where his knees should be. 

“You’re going to hurt your neck like that, Akaashi,” Yukie floats into the living room, bringing Akaashi a bowl of rice and an over-easy egg and setting it down on the table in front of him. “Eat.”

Akaashi grumbles something about Yukie acting like his mother, but listens to her anyway, fixing his positioning on the couch and grabbing the bowl from the coffee table. “He doesn’t really like me, Yukie. The timing of everything is stupid.”

“You are very welcome for breakfast, Akaashi, no problem,” Yukie dives into her own bowl, drizzling a mixture of soy and sesame seeds on top and cutting her egg without breaking the yolk yet. 

“I’m sulking. Let me sulk.”

“You can sulk and be thankful at the same time,” she says before taking a bite. 

He sighs in response and follows her lead. “Thank you so much for the delicious food, Yukie-chan,” he replies with way too much food in his mouth. When Yukie shoots him a disgusted glare, he laughs for the first time in 48 hours. 

They eat mostly in silence, both of their attention on the television in front of them. As soon as they’re done, Yukie moves closer to Akaashi, setting her empty bowl on the table and then resting her head on his shoulder. Truth be told, Akaashi is deeply appreciative of Yukie making sure that he’s taken care of. The food in his stomach is already making him feel less antsy about the phone in his pocket. Bokuto has texted him 3 times today and it’s barely 9:30. Akaashi, on the other hand, has not texted him since he told Bokuto that he would come to his show. 

“What’s on your mind?” Yukie asks, though, she most likely knows the answer already.

“I think he’s just texting me because he feels bad.” 

“I would feel bad if I didn’t text you for a week straight, so it’s possible,” she reasons.

“No, no. Not even like that… Like,” Akaashi pauses, thinking about how to explain it correctly. “That kid probably told Bokuto how weird I was and now he’s just texting me because he feels bad that he’s been ignoring me. Obviously he didn’t like me in the first place and now it’s just weird.”

There’s a beat of silence. In this moment, he knows that he’s not going to like Yukie’s upcoming reasonable and level-headed response. “Why would he be texting you now if he didn’t like you? Why not just stop texting you all together?”

He mulls over this, runs it through his brain a few times before humoring her. “Okay, so, sure. Hypothetically, say that makes sense and logic is sound. What am I supposed to do now? Just start texting him because he decides he’s ready to text me back?”

“I’m not asking you to settle for someone who only texts you when they want to text you or only puts effort in when they want to put the effort in,” she begins, lifting her head off of Akaashi shoulder and folding her legs into a crisscross. “But maybe he just didn’t understand or realize. It’s the first time that Bokuto has done something like this. Maybe give him a second chance.” She turns towards Akaashi, leaning her back on the armrest. 

Akaashi mimics her position, crossing his legs and facing her with his back on the other armrest. He pulls his phone out of his pocket to see another notification from Bokuto. “I just feel weird about the timing of everything and his 0 to 100 response to the situation. What if he is pitying me? Texting me only because he feels bad? How pathetic does that make me?”

“Do you like him?” 

The question takes Akaashi aback. “I mean- I- Yeah.”

“How much?” Her questions are innocent in nature, but Akaashi has known Yukie for too long to not seek the hidden intention behind them.

“I don’t know. I’m not in high school, Y-.”

She interrupts him and repeats her question, elaborating this time. “How much do you like Bokuto?” When she doesn’t get an immediate answer, she continues, “Because I know that I haven’t seen you think about a guy this much in, like, ever.”

“I like him a lot.” Saying the sentence aloud makes Akaashi’s stomach twist. 

“Okay,” Yukie nods as if she’s solved every single problem and worry in Akaashi’s mind. 

“Okay?” 

“Take some time, sure, but if you like him and want to pursue something with him, what’s the harm in putting effort into it?” 

Akaashi is still feeling underlying anxiety thinking about Bokuto’s intentions, but he knows that there’s validity in Yukie’s statements. He looks down at his phone and the familiar name on his recent notification.

 **Bokuto / 9:43 a.m.** **  
** **Wuts on UR agenda 4 2day???**

“Do it,” Yukie encourages him just as she did the first time that he texted Bokuto.

 **Sent to Bokuto / 9:44 a.m.** **  
** **Not much. Probably just relaxing. Hbu?**

 **Bokuto / 9:44 a.m.** **  
** **Txtn u hopefully????**

Despite Akaashi not being able to shake the uneasy feeling, he listens to Yukie’s encouragement. 

**Sent to Bokuto / 9:46 a.m.** **  
** **Maybe lol. Trying to stay off my phone a bit today but ill text when I can.**

 **Bokuto / 9:46 a.m.** **  
** **ILL B here:)))))**

 **Bokuto / 9:46 a.m.** **  
** **U have wrk 2mrw??**

 **Sent to Bokuto / 9:48 a.m.** **  
** **Yup. not looking to it lol**

 **Bokuto / 9:48 a.m.** **  
** **I have 2 practice 2nit 4 the next show**

 **Sent to Bokuto / 9:51 a.m.** **  
** **When’s the next show?**

Akaashi instantly regrets sending that text message. After last night, he can’t imagine going to another show and having to face the overwhelming crowd and how insanely good Bokuto will look with the spotlight highlighting the sweat on his forehead and chest. He gets Bokuto’s reply faster than any text he’s ever gotten from him.

 **Bokuto / 9:51 a.m.** **  
** **This Friday!!!! Hydrate!!!!!**

 **Bokuto / 9:51 a.m.** **  
** **Will U B THere???????**

“I’m free Friday!” Yukie says when Akaashi opens Bokuto’s text. Though she’s sitting across from Akaashi, her head is overtop of the phone. She is surprisingly good at reading upside down very quickly. 

“I- I don’t know if I should go to another show.” Akaashi stutters over the beginning of the sentence. It’s not just his brain telling him to put on the brakes, it’s his entire body. He can’t stop thinking about last night and how exhausting it was. 

“Akaashi,” Yukie furrows her brows and lightly pushes him, “You have to go.”

“Saturday was horrible,” he tries to explain all of the doubt in a single boiled down sentence. 

“And it probably wouldn’t have been if I was there.”

Akaashi starts to protest again, but Yukie starts rocking forwards and backward, ignoring his hesitance. 

“Please, please, please. This is it, the last one you have to go to. If it’s as bad as Saturday and you hate it then you’ll know for sure and you’ll never have to go again. We can even leave early if you’re feeling uncomfortable.”

“Yukie, no, I-,” he tries again. 

“You’ll never know if you don’t go. Plus, you’ll see Bokuto again and can decide if this is something you really want to pursue, and if all else fails, we can find someone else for you to rebound with at the show. Wouldn’t that be funny? I’ll be your wing woman.”

“I just don’t think that-,” he tries once again. If it even somewhat sounds like Akaashi is going to turn her down, Yukie starts pulling out more reasons that they should go.

“I’ve been so busy with work the past few weekends and we haven’t gone out in forever.”

Akaashi doesn’t know if Yukie just wants to go so that they can party or if the only reason she’s pushing so hard is for Akaashi’s sake. Either way, her endless reasoning, and relentless puppy dog eyes will only go away if he agrees to at least put more thought into it. 

“I’ll think about it, okay?” 

This satisfies Yukie who nods vigorously. Akaashi knows that she won’t stop pestering him all week until he changes his answer to a reluctant yes, but he can cross that bridge when he gets to it. Currently, the bridge that he’s at is responding to Bokuto.

He knows that Yukie is right. He needs to go once more with everything that’s happened and Bokuto’s sudden change in heart. He’s not going in with latent annoyance, only mild apprehension. At least Yukie will be there with him. He’ll no longer be the only person there without company. The more that he thinks about it, as he told Yukie he would, the more appealing it seems to go to another one of Crowlster’s shows. 

**Sent to Bokuto / 10:14 a.m.** **  
** **Ill think abt it and let you know, yea?**

 **Bokuto / 10:14 a.m.** **  
** **OK Kaashi!!! Hope UCAN make it!!!!**

He catches himself smiling for the second time today. 

* * *

Bokuto never knew how many things he took for granted when it came to Akaashi. There was the aspect of his normally quick responses, his instant acceptance of Bokuto’s invitations to the shows, and the lack of any awkward tones within their texts. All Bokuto wanted was to have everything back to the way that it was (minus him following Kuroo’s horrible advice).

He thought a lot about completely coming clean to Akaashi, admitting everything and clearing the air about his motives and rubber band like energy. But what was he supposed to tell Akaashi? He couldn’t tell him that he hadn’t texted him all this time because he wanted him to like him more. Thinking on it now, even going so far as to type out various responses to send to Akaashi, everything sounds pathetic and nothing is making sense.

Kenma told him to be himself. He’s trying his best, but sometimes the voice in the back of his head reminds him that himself is too much. 

A few days before the show, Bokuto is texting back and forth with Akaashi who has still yet to give him a definite answer of whether he’s coming to the show or not. For the past three shows, Bokuto has found himself feeling more nervous than ever to perform. This Friday’s show is proving to trouble him in similar ways, but on different grounds. Bokuto is not only worrying about performing for Akaashi for the fourth time, but he doesn’t even know if he’ll be there.

He just wants to know if he’ll be there or not. 

Every day since Reverb, Akaashi has been coming out of his shell more and more, slowly returning back to how he would text Bokuto before, though he’s not quite there yet. They have yet to run out of things to talk about. Bokuto makes sure of this, asking Akaashi random questions about himself and his thoughts. 

It’s a rare sight to see Bokuto awake and functioning before 1 in the afternoon, but this week he’s been getting up early and is particularly active around noon, also known as Akaashi’s lunch break. Bokuto figures that Akaashi doesn’t have much else to do during his lunch break or things to keep him entertained because this is when he texts Bokuto back the fastest.

It’s Bokuto’s favorite part of the day.

 **Sent to Kaashi!!! / 11:56 a.m.** **  
** **KAASHI**

 **Sent to Kaashi!!! / 11:56 a.m.** **  
** **WAS the CLR orange named aftr the froot?**

 **Kaashi!!! / 11:57 a.m.** **  
** **What?**

 **Sent to Kaashi!!! / 11:57 a.m.** **  
** **WAS THE CLR ORANGE NMD AFTR TH E FROOT???**

 **Sent to Kaashi!!! / 11:57 a.m.** **  
** **OR was the froot nmd aftr the clr?????????**

 **Kaashi!!! / 11:58 a.m.** **  
** **The color was named after the fruit.**

 **Sent to Kaashi!!! / 11:59 a.m.** **  
** **NOOOO. How???? THat makes NO sens**

 **Kaashi!!! / 12:00 a.m.** **  
** **It’s true**

 **Kaashi!!! / 12:00 a.m.** **  
** **Before the fruit, it was just called yellow-red or red-yellow.**

 **Sent to Kaashi!!! / 12:01 a.m.** **  
** **UR so smart kaashi**

 **Sent to Kaashi!!! / 12:01 a.m.** **  
** **HEy hey hey Kaashi!!!?!??!??**

 **Kaashi!!! / 12:02 a.m.** **  
** **Hm?**

 **Sent to Kaashi!!! / 12:03 a.m.** **  
** **If U were a dog wht dog wud U B????**

Their texts continue back and forth all throughout Akaashi’s lunch break. Bokuto is so grateful that they are finally getting back to normal. Though they pause when Akaashi is at work or making dinner, they spend most of the day in contact with one another.

The conversation takes a heavy turn from it’s previously light-hearted, joking banter when Bokuto settles into bed at 1:30 in the morning. Akaashi hadn’t texted him back since a little before midnight, though this was a normal occurrence during the last week. This is the time that Akaashi uses to take a shower, change into his pajamas, brush his teeth, and get into bed. He discovered this on one particularly involved night, asking Akaashi “what are you doing _now_ ” every few minutes. 

They’ve gotten quite good at creating a routine in the timing of their texts, but Bokuto continues to keep Akaashi on his toes in terms of the content of his texts. Tonight is Akaashi’s turn to keep Bokuto on his toes, but not with stupid questions or witty banter. 

**Kaashi!!! / 1:34 a.m.** **  
** **You dont have to text me because you feel bad, you know that right?**

When Bokuto reads the text, he wants to read it again to make sure that he read it correctly, but his brain won’t let him. His heart completely sinks after reading it once. He didn’t really think that, right? There’s no way that Akaashi could think that he’s just texting him because he feels bad.

 **Sent to Kaashi!!! / 1:36 a.m.** **  
** **Wht?????**

 **Kaashi!!! / 1:37 a.m.** **  
** **If youre just texting me because you feel bad bc of whatever that kid said to you… you dont have to text me**

Everything was feeling like it was getting back to normal, but obviously Akaashi was dealing with his own thoughts and insecurities about moving forward. Bokuto was determined to squash these uncertainties right here and now. 

**Sent to Kaashi!!! / 1:38 a.m.** **  
** **Kaashi….. I txt U BC i like 2 tlk 2 U…**

That’s not enough. 

**Sent to Kaashi!!! / 1:38 a.m.** **  
** **When I get UR txts it makes me so happy nd when UR not txtn me back I just sit arnd and w8 4 U 2 txt back**

 **Sent to Kaashi!!! / 1:39 a.m.** **  
** **Talking to u is the best part of my day Kaashi**

 **Sent to Kaashi!!! / 1:39 a.m.** **  
** **I mean it**

While he’s waiting for Akaashi to text back, he wonders if he should just keep texting him, telling him each and every detail about why he loves to talk to Akaashi until Akaashi never doubts Bokuto’s motives for texting him. 

**Sent to Kaashi!!! / 1:43 a.m.** **  
** **Even b4 when i wasnt txtn U, i wanted 2. I always want 2 tlk u**

 **Kaashi!!! / 1:48 a.m.** **  
** **Okay.**

 **Kaashi!!! / 1:48 a.m.** **  
** **Thank you.**

Before Bokuto can wildly protest Akaashi’s gratitude for finally explaining himself, Akaashi has sent 2 more texts. 

**Kaashi!!! / 1:48 a.m.** **  
** **I’ll see you Friday?**

 **Kaashi!!! / 1:48 a.m.** **  
** **For ur sake, ofc.**

It’s pathetic how happy and giddy Bokuto feels just from the thought of seeing Akaashi again and his poking fun at Bokuto. Bokuto, who had been neatly tucked into bed with the covers pulled over his chest and his head rested nicely on his stack of pillows, is now out of bed, unzipping the case to his bass guitar. 

**Sent to Kaashi!!! / 1:52 a.m.** **  
** **I CANT w8 2 C U!!!!! :DDD**

He puts his phone down between replies, tuning the bass, and starting to warm up with various chords. Various chords turn into entire songs in a matter of minutes. The songs are broken up into 2-minute tidbits as Bokuto makes sure to text Akaashi back quickly. 

“It is almost 2 a.m., what happened to your Akaashi-provoked schedule?” Kuroo asks in Bokuto’s doorway.

“He’s coming to the show on Friday,” Bokuto sets his phone down, instantly beginning to practice one of the songs from their setlist. 

“Ah, so still Akaashi-provoked schedule,” Kuroo laughs, looking at how determined Bokuto was. So determined, in fact, that he doesn’t even respond to the witty remark. Kuroo can’t help but sigh in relief at how positively Akaashi has responded to Bokuto’s recent change in pace. He’s seen how absolutely enveloped Bokuto is with Akaashi. Kuroo’s not sure what he would have done if Akaashi stopped talking to him because of his advice.

“I’m nervous for Friday, is that weird?” Despite all of Kuroo’s horrible guidance, Bokuto is still asking him for his thoughts on the matter. This is just one testament to how kind-hearted and innocent that Bokuto really is. He can’t believe that he thought the same tactics would work for him. 

“Definitely not weird, Bo. You’re going to do great,” Kuroo reassures him. Bokuto smiles at Kuroo’s response, but only for a moment before he’s turning his attention back to his phone which elicits a much bigger smile. “Okay, well, I’m going to get to sleep, you should too. You’re going to need rest if you’re going to survive until Friday, especially with how early you’ve been getting up.”

Bokuto nods in response, but his focus is still heavy on the response that he’s typing out. He looks up at Kuroo once he’s sent the text with a _woosh_. “Goodnight, Kuroo.” 

“Goodnight, Bo.” 

He practices for another few minutes before mulling over Kuroo’s advice and putting his bass away, climbing into bed. The fact that Akaashi is going to sleep definitely doesn’t help his want to stay up. 

**Sent to Kaashi!!! / 2:32 a.m.** **  
** **TTY Tmrw!!!!**

 **Kaashi!!! / 2:32 a.m.** **  
** **Yes, yes. After my beauty sleep.**

 **Sent to Kaashi!!! / 2:32 a.m.** **  
** **NO!!! Rmbr?? No beauty sleep needed 4 pretty Kaashi.**

Bokuto doesn’t even think about how hard Akaashi is blushing right now. The thought doesn’t even cross his mind that he’s restless in bed from the same innocent comment. He doesn’t know what he’s doing to Akaashi when he sends his final text of the night. It’s just the truth.

 **Sent to Kaashi!!! / 2:33 a.m.** **  
** **Ur rly pretty Kaashi. The gods blessed me by putting u nd ur beauty in my life**

* * *

Akaashi raps lightly on the slightly ajar door evoking a “come in” from inside. Yukie is laying on her stomach, scrolling through whichever social media app she’s currently on. “What’s up?” she asks, sitting up and closing her phone, turning her complete attention to Akaashi.

“You were right,” he mumbles causing Yukie’s eyes to widen slightly, “about Bokuto, I mean.” Yukie pats her bed, gesturing for Akaashi to sit down next to her, but Akaashi isn’t here to vent, just to bring some news that she’ll thoroughly enjoy. He shakes his head, “I was just coming in here to tell you that you were right and that I definitely should’ve just given him a second chance and I’m happy that you pushed me to.”

“Well, I am glad to hear that.” A lesser, more vindictive person would have reveled in Akaashi’s admittance of defeat, but Yukie’s face only shows a soft, genuine smile. She notices how flushed Akaashi looks and it makes her feel happier for her best friend. 

“We’re going,” he admits, slowly, “by the way.”

“On Friday?” Yukie’s excitement has gotten the better of her as she jumps up and down on the bed just slightly, a large smile taking the place of her previous soft one. Akaashi nods in response. “Oh my gosh, I have to figure out what I’m going to wear and what you’re going to wear. Should we coordinate? Obviously, right? Are we going to pregame before taking the train? It’ll probably be much more fun and much cheaper. Where exactly is the venue? Hydrate, right?”

Her apparent enthusiasm alone might have been reason enough to go, though it is definitely not the main reason in the slightest. His phone feels heavy in his pocket thinking about his actual motive for going to the show. It’s definitely not for the chance to hear Bokuto call him pretty in person. That’s definitely not it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	4. ch4 / hydrate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> f r u i t i o n

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u so much everyone for ur kind comments they've literally made my week. here we are with literally one of the best things i've ever written. i love this chapter so much it's insane. i hope you do too!!!

Akaashi had never been to a show on a Friday, the start of the weekend. He wasn’t exactly sure what to expect in terms of how busy the venue was. It’s been racing around in his mind ever since he had agreed to go. The fact that Yukie was attending the show with him calmed his mind a bit, but not completely. 

She had not stopped talking about the show since he had confirmed that they were going. When Friday finally came, the talking did not cease. Through breakfast and lunch, Yukie was fawning over the fact that she was going to see Bokuto for the first time and that she hadn’t been to a live show in some time. She also made sure to thank Akaashi a handful of times for bringing her along. 

“I definitely would not have gone without you,” Akaashi explained. 

“Still! I am so excited!” 

“I know, Yukie, I know,” Akaashi nodded at her enthusiasm, but it did seem to calm his own nerves in a weird way. 

It wasn’t until they were getting ready in their separate rooms and he was void of the Yukie enthusiasm that the nerves really settled in. He hadn’t seen Bokuto since last Saturday on that horribly exhausting night. Sure, they had been texting each other constantly since then and have mostly returned to their banter and jokes, but how is that going to translate in person? Is he even going to invite him to stick around again to see him in person?

A knock on his door brings him out of his own mind. Yukie pushes in when she doesn’t hear an objection. “Should I wear this?” She gestures to the outfit that she has on. “Or this?” She holds a different outfit on hangers up to her body. 

“First one,” he motions towards the outfit that she had on. She nods in contentment, leaving quickly to throw the other outfit back into her closet. Akaashi has just finished getting dressed when Yukie interrupts him again, popping her head back in view. “Should we do shots before we go?”

There is no stopping the laughter of disbelief that bubbles up from Akaashi’s chest. “Excuse me?”

“Shots.” Yukie reveals her hand and, in it, a bottle of clear liquid. There’s a devilish smile on her face when she swishes the liquid around. “Should we do them before we leave?”

“For- I- Wh- For what reason?” Akaashi is stammering over his words, eyes narrowed in confusion at Yukie. 

“Pregame?” A pout rests on her face when she notices that Akaashi is not completely on board the instant that he saw the bottle. “It’s going to be expensive there and I can see the nerves on your face and I bet your hands are clammy right now, aren’t they?”

Akaashi wipes his palms on his jeans. “...No.” 

Yukie smiles in her triumph. “So let’s do shots before we go.” 

He’s laughing again at her bluntness. Akaashi had never been a heavy drinker, only getting decently wasted maybe once or twice in his life, but seeing Yukie in her amusement and listening to her valid points, he agrees. “Fine, one.” 

“Meet you in the kitchen! Finish fixing your hair!” Yukie calls out as she walks down the stairs into the kitchen, her heels clicking on the floor.  _ Her feet are going to be killing her by the end of the night,  _ is Akaashi’s first thought, shaking his head. Akaashi’s second thought is,  _ I was done with my hair, but obviously not _ . 

It takes him another 5 minutes to “finish fixing his hair” before he decides that Yukie better be happy with it because it’s the best it’s going to get. Akaashi is convinced that his hair only gives him a hard time when he’s nervous. 

“Should we be drinking this early before the show? It doesn’t start for another,” Akaashi checks his phone, also seeing the few texts that he’s gotten from Bokuto while he was getting ready, “2 and a half hours.”

“Perfect! 30 minutes to let this shit kick in while you go fix your hair again, an hour to get there and find the place, and an hour to drink and dance and push our way to the front!” Yukie explains as if she’s been thinking a lot about this. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this.”

Akaashi is so impressed by her time management skills, though he shouldn’t be, that he almost doesn’t respond to her comment about his hair. “My hair is doing the best it possibly can, okay?”

“I’ll fix it after we do shots,” she waves him off, setting two shot glasses on the kitchen counter and filling them with whatever alcohol she has in her hand. 

“Stop saying shots plural, Yukie. I am not doing more than one,” Akaashi reiterates. 

“Sure, sure, that’s what everyone says before they do their first shot,” she says, handing their  _ first and only  _ shot to Akaashi. She clinks her shot glass against his before throwing her head back and downing the shot. Akaashi follows suit. He feels the warmth in his throat and then his chest and then his stomach. He doesn’t mind it, but it’s making him miss his Bokuto induced warmth. 

“Hair time, c’mon.” Yukie is already halfway to Akaashi’s room before Akaashi begins to follow her. 

“Listen, I’ve messed with it so much tonight. I don’t think it cares and I have to just let it be, I think. It’s won,” Akaashi says, sitting down in front of his mirror. He’s still going to let her try, if only to be able to say  _ I told you so _ . 

She runs her fingers through Akaashi’s hair a few times before leaving abruptly, returning with a bright green container. “What is that?” 

“Shhh. Let me work magic,” she says, unscrewing the lid which releases a floral, but somehow still chemical, scent. Akaashi doesn’t pay much attention to what Yukie’s doing with his hair.  _ She’ll never get it as perfect as she wants it to be, anyway,  _ Akaashi thinks. He’s looking down at his phone, texting Bokuto about the perfect cat name when he feels Yukie’s hands pull away from his hair. “Done!”

Looking into the mirror, Akaashi can barely believe what he’s seeing. Even on good hair days, his hair has never looked this good. Akaashi feels  _ good _ . He knows that the alcohol hasn’t made its way completely through his system yet, so he can’t even pin it partially on that. 

“Here,” she throws something in Akaashi’s lap, “wear this.” Picking it up, Akaashi recognizes his old denim jacket. 

“I’m not cold.” 

Yukie blinks slowly at Akaashi before giggling at his innocence. “It’s not for warmth, stupid. It’s for fashionable layers. You look great, okay, but you could look,” she makes a rainbow with her hands, “incredible.”

She hasn’t been wrong tonight, so he pulls the jacket on over top of his sweater. 

Stepping into view of the mirror, he can almost not stop looking at himself. He turns a few times for good measures. He contemplates sending a picture to Bokuto, enough confidence in his mind that he thinks the sight might affect him in the same way that Bokuto’s video did to him 2 shows ago. His hair looks great thanks to Yukie’s magic paste and layers have never looked so good on another human being.  _ Except probably Bokuto, but Bokuto doesn’t really layer his clothes. Or, he hasn’t in front of Akaashi… yet…  _

“Should we do another shot? Or should we do another shot?” Yukie’s mischievous grin has returned to her face, her tongue is poking out of the side of her mouth ever so slightly between her teeth, and her eyebrows will not stop wiggling. 

Akaashi feels  _ good _ . “One more.” He thinks he’ll regret his decision when the agreement leaves his mouth, but he just feels more confident. 

* * *

By the time they actually get to the venue, both Akaashi and Yukie are feeling very good. No, very good is not enough to describe how unimaginably incredible they feel. Their entire ride to the venue is spent talking about Bokuto and how good he looks on stage. Yukie is soaking up the information, admitting that she’s never seen him before. 

_ “What? Not even his Instagram?” Akaashi said in disbelief.  _

_ She shook her head violently, messing up her perfectly straightened hair. “Nope. You never showed me him. I never looked.” _

_ “You are in for a treat.” _

There are more people in the venue than Akaashi expects there to be. He figures that it makes sense given that it’s pretty late on a Friday night. Yukie’s eyes go straight to the bar and she starts her way over there. Akaashi has to almost run to catch up with her. 

“Should we do another shot?” Yukie’s eyes are shimmering, he swears. As good as he feels right now, he knows that another shot would not just lead to a single other shot, but rather a long line of shots that he’s going to regret. He already feels the warmth on his cheeks from the shots from earlier. He shakes his head. 

“I still want to enjoy the show, Yukie, y’know? Remember it?” 

She laughs, putting both of her hands up in surrender. “Fair, fair.” She orders two beers, giving the bartender her card and handing one of them to Akaashi. “Tonight is for me to finally see and judge how hot this bass guy actually is. I can’t do that if I’m wasted.”

“No, you cannot,” he agrees, taking a sip of the cold beer. 

“It’s cute in here. I like it,” she bops her head along to the music as she makes her way towards the stage away from the bar. There are already a good amount of people gathered close to the stage. It feels weird being here with somebody else. Typically, he’s the only one in the crowd who is by themselves, but he doesn’t have to worry about that now. In fact, he hasn’t really been worrying about anything tonight. He doesn’t know if that’s due to the 2 shots he took beforehand, Yukie’s presence, or the fact that he’s been texting Bokuto all night. 

He sent him texts when he left his place, on the train ride there, when he got to the venue, and even now when he’s trying to find a permanent place to watch the show, he’s typing back a reply to Bokuto. “Finish texting your boyfriend and hurry up. I want to push through those people. I need to be close to see how good this guy actually looks. Make sure he’s good enough for my Akaashi,” Yukie’s pointing at the cluster of people, her palms as together as they can be considering the drink in her hand, making somewhat of a diving hand gesture.

He slips his phone into his pocket and starts walking toward the grouping of people. “Wait! Before we get in there!” Yukie runs her fingers through Akaashi’s hair, separating pieces and pinching other strands together. She taps his nose when she’s finished. “Okay! Onwards!” She lifts her beer like a torch to guide her. 

Yukie is pretty good at maneuvering silently through the herd. Eventually, she has to become a bit more vocal, holding Akaashi’s hand as she moves through the people. “Excuse me, sorry! Sorry!” she apologizes to each person as she passes them. 

They get to a position in the crowd that won’t allow them to push further. They are definitely not pressed up against the stage like the people in front of them, but he’s further than he was at Vision. Yukie lets go of Akaashi’s hand and curtseys slightly, waiting for Akaashi’s applause at getting them that far. She does not get an applause, but rather, an eye roll and Akaashi to take another sip of his beer. 

Akaashi is having an amazing night and he hasn’t even seen Bokuto yet. 

* * *

It wasn’t unusual for Bokuto and Kuroo to take a peek at the state of the crowd before they actually started to prepare to perform. Recently, Bokuto has made it a point to check the crowd frequently before the shows, looking around the venue particularly for one person. He liked to know where Akaashi was going to be stationed for their performance. 

Akaashi had texted him that he was there already, so Bokuto didn’t have to wonder if he was there, he just had to spot him. He doubted that he would be in the back of the room, though he wasn’t sure he’d be right in the front either. Bokuto and Kuroo were peering out of the backstage door. It wasn’t the best view of the venue, but it was their only option. 

“Do you see him?” Bokuto asks Kuroo above him. 

“You guys look ridiculous,” Tsukishima says from the floor. He’s messing around, doing whatever it is he’s doing, with his drums. They weren’t going to admit it, but they did look ridiculous. Kuroo was knelt down on the floor, his head right underneath Bokuto’s from the crack of the door. 

“Shut up, Tsukki. We’re looking for Akaashi,” Kuroo hisses. 

“Do you see him?” Bokuto repeats himself. 

They’re both scanning the multitude of people that are in the building, looking over by the bar, checking in the back walls just to make sure, investigating the congested area in the front of the stage. That’s when he sees Akaashi.  _ He looks so good _ . Bokuto touches his own head of hair, noticing how incredible Akaashi’s looks tonight.  _ Should I style my hair like Akaashi’s? No, right? _ Bokuto asks himself. 

When he spots them on the floor, they haven’t entered the mass amounts of people yet.  _ Wait, they?  _ There’s a girl with him. Bokuto wrinkles his eyebrows together in confusion. I mean, they’re not here together, right? The girl,  _ she’s cute, perfect for Akaashi _ , runs her fingers through Akaashi’s hair and Bokuto feels even more confused. 

“He’s here with some girl,” he mumbles to Kuroo. He can’t look away from Akaashi and this mystery woman. She touches her fingertip to his nose and holds his hand as they walk through the plethora of people dancing on the floor. Bokuto’s throat feels tight. “He’s never said anything about a girlfriend. Does he have a girlfriend?” 

Kuroo is silent, not responding at all. He’s afraid to. “What if I’ve just made the biggest fool of myself? What if they’re together and this is his way of telling me he’s not interested? Like he felt too embarrassed to tell me and let me down?” He can’t look away from the two of them swaying and dancing together. Akaashi’s laughing, covering his smile with his beer. Bokuto isn’t mad, he just wishes that he was dancing with him instead of this girl. He wishes that he could snatch the beer from his hands so that he could see his smile, wishes that he could replace his lips with the beer at least. A thought appears that he says as soon as it’s in his head, “What if he doesn’t even like guys?”

Kuroo’s thoughts cannot escape him and the filter between his mind and mouth has evidently broken, finally responding to Bokuto’s questions, “Bro, I don’t know, maybe. I mean, he-.”

“Oh my god,” Tsukishima has forcefully put down his equipment and has gotten up from his crisscrossed position on the floor. Tsukishima is much scrawnier than Kuroo and Bokuto, but he’s also much scarier than Kuroo and Bokuto. His footsteps are heavy and his demeanor is unforgiving as he joins in on their conversation. 

When they have these conversations or any conversation, really, Bokuto and Kuroo have to coerce Tsukki to join in, usually accomplishing that by purely antagonistic means. An unprompted Tsukishima Kei joining in on their discussion is as strange as it is absolutely terrifying. 

Bokuto and Kuroo stand up straight, shutting the door to the outside of backstage. They turn to face Tsukishima and his angry footsteps. They don’t stop until he’s face to face with Bokuto. Tsukishima, though only by a few centimeters, is taller than both of the men in front of him. This only adds to his threatening manner. 

“Obviously Kenma didn’t explain it well enough for you dumbasses to understand,” Tsukishima drones. 

“Tsukki-,” they both start to protest in unison. 

“No Tsukki. Shut up and listen to me.” They don’t say another word, only listen intently to whatever Tsukishima is about to say with wounded looks on their faces. “I don’t care about either of you.” The wounded looks on their faces deepen. “But I do know that whoever this Akaashi guy is definitely cares about you, Bokuto.”

“Bu-,” Bokuto goes to question him.

“No. No. Shut up. He obviously cares about you for whatever reason. That’s why he’s here. He’s here with some girl not because he doesn’t care about you, but maybe because he didn’t want to go to a fourth show by himself.” Tsukishima rolls his eyes as he finishes his sentence, his facial expression screaming  _ duh, you fucking morons _ . 

“But, what abo-,” Bokuto tries again but is shocked into stopping when both of Tsukishima’s hands grip each side of his arms. 

“I am going to physically shake you until you understand, okay?” Tsukishima asks, though he’s not asking for permission, but rather asking that he comprehends what’s about to happen. Bokuto begins to object but is interrupted by Tsukishima violently moving his entire body. “Akaashi. Likes. You. Idiot. Stop. Sabotaging. Yourself.”

Bokuto thinks about letting another “but…” escape him, but he decides it’s for the better to keep it in. He’s getting dizzy, but Tsukishima still isn’t stopping. Maybe he’s right. Maybe he’s only sabotaging himself. “Okay! Okay, okay!” He admits defeat. 

Tsukishima stops shaking him but keeps his hands on Bokuto’s arms. “Does Akaashi have a girlfriend?”

Bokuto looks confused. “I- I don’t know! That’s wha-.” The blonde starts shaking him again, harder this time. Bokuto’s arms are starting to hurt. 

“Does. Akaashi. Have. A. Girlfriend.”

“I don’t know!!” Bokuto exclaims, but Tsukishima still won’t let him go. Instead, he shakes him even harder. “No! No! Akaashi doesn’t have a girlfriend!” Even when Tsukishima drops his own arms to his side, the room still feels like it’s moving. 

“Good. Now go prepare for the show and stop staring at him, you creeps.” Tsukishima walks back to where he was sitting before, positioning himself in the exact same spot that he was in before they were spying on Akaashi. Bokuto rubs the spots on his arms where Tsukishima had grabbed him, sending pouting glares towards the back of his head.

“That hurt,” he grumbles. 

“Good. That was the point,” Tsukki replies, back still to the two older men, while beginning to wrap his fingers. Bokuto sticks his tongue out at Tsukki, though he’s not looking at him. Tsukki snaps his head around. “Go finish prepping,” he says curtly, nodding towards his bass that’s still in its case. 

_ Akaashi doesn’t have a girlfriend _ , he reminds himself as he’s taking his bass out and tuning it.  _ Akaashi doesn’t have a girlfriend _ . He keeps repeating those few words to himself until he’s almost ready to go on stage.

* * *

Akaashi thinks that the time is going to pass a lot slower than it actually does. He thought that going there early was going to be a bad idea, that they were going to spend most of the time bored and waiting for Crowlster to get on stage. 3 beers and countless stupid, but catchy, pop songs later and Akaashi is feeling great. He’s never been more ready to watch them play. 

Bokuto had stopped texting him a little bit ago, telling him that he had to finish getting ready for the show.  **If U dont stop TXTN me Ill be 2 distrcted 2 prep nd U wont get 2 C ME on stage >:OOOO! ** Is the exact text that he received. So he listened. He put away his phone and focused on hanging out with Yukie until the show started. 

He hasn’t even checked his watch to know that the show should be starting any second now. It is an almost shocking surprise when the lights all shut off and the screaming begins. Akaashi hadn’t even noticed how much larger the crowd on the floor had gotten until he’s met with their deafening shouts and chants. 

Yukie grabbed onto Akaashi’s arm when the lights went down and now she’s just jumping along with the people surrounding them, screaming at the same volume. Akaashi joins in with them. Three silhouettes move onto the stage. If Akaashi had been any further back, he’s not sure that he would have even recognized them. 

The familiar tapping of the drumsticks notifies Akaashi that it is about to be very loud, especially considering his proximity to the stage. Before the music even begins, each tap raises the hairs on Akaashi’s arms, his lips stretching wide on his face before he continues to scream with everyone else. 

Contrary to their last show, there’s no playing in the dark. As soon as the song starts, the lights shine down on the 3 band members who look absolutely perfect having just come from backstage. Akaashi has seen enough of their shows to know that by the end of the night, they will be sweating, out of breath messes, but for now, Akaashi enjoys the put-togetherness of the band. 

Yukie is seemingly having a phenomenal time listening to live music and dancing along, despite not knowing how the song goes in the slightest. The 3 beers that they’ve had are definitely taking a much larger toll on Yukie than they have on Akaashi. It just adds to the fun that Akaashi is having, watching Yukie try to sing along with Kuroo when she evidently doesn’t know what he’s saying.

He spends a good chunk of the beginning of the song watching Yukie enjoy herself, so much so that he hasn’t even noticed how  _ hot _ Bokuto looks tonight. It’s different, for some reason, tonight. It might be the alcohol or the fact that he knows that this is who has been on the other side of his phone for the past week or maybe it’s just because he’s this hot and Akaashi shouldn’t be looking so deep into it. 

He doesn’t have to be angry at the fact that he can’t find Bokuto hot tonight, because he can and he will. His hair had obviously just been styled because it was staying perfectly in place as he moved his head to the beat. There was no sweat forming on his forehead, not yet at least, but his eyes still shined for the split second that he got to see them. 

It wouldn’t have been a Crowlster show without Bokuto wearing a sleeveless tank top that showed off his arms. Being as close to the stage as he was, Akaashi notices identical red marks on both of his biceps. He doesn’t tread on them for that long. He’s much more interested in how defined they are.  _ I should ask him if he works out _ . 

Akaashi has watched Bokuto play the bass enough times to fill up an entire hand, but it still feels like a brand new experience every time he watches him play. You’d think that with how frequently he plays and how good he sounds, Bokuto could play with his eyes closed, but more often than not, he has a laser-like focus on his own hands. Akaashi finds it both adorable and unfathomably attractive when he bites down on his tongue during the particularly difficult parts of the song. 

By the time they’ve made their way through most of their setlist, the alcohol has begun to wear off of Yukie and Akaashi feels near sober with only a want to dance left to show for the alcohol he’s consumed. “I can’t believe how attractive he is, Akaashi,” Yukie leans over and yells in his ear sometime during the show. 

“I know,” he yells right back at her, only tearing his eyes off of Bokuto for a few minutes. He wishes he was right up against the stage so that he could fold his arms over one another and lean on them. 

There are girls all around him and Yukie who are screaming up to the 3 men on stage, all exclaiming different names. Each person in the immediate crowd clearly has their own personal favorite of the men. “Tsukishima!!!!” “Kuroo!!!!” “Bokuto!!!!” all erupt from around them. 

Akaashi wants to join the chorus of Bokuto’s, calling out to him, making sure that Bokuto knows exactly who he’s here for, but he stays quiet, his eyes gently locking onto Bokuto’s. At first, he’s not sure that Bokuto can even see him with the spotlights glaring down on him so harshly. He’s convinced that it’s just a coincidence of where his eyes have fallen, but then Bokuto winks. He can’t even stop his heart from fluttering as Bokuto smirks. There’s no way in the world that Bokuto can see how deeply red his face turns, but it feels like he can. Bokuto starts moving more enthusiastically and rhythmically, swaying his body and moving his head, but keeping his eyes deadlocked on Akaashi’s. 

Akaashi can’t look away. He doesn’t dare. It’s Bokuto who breaks their eye contact, looking back down at the strings of his bass as he plucks along to the song, sliding his fingers down the strings quickly, moving them to new positions and leaving the positions just as fast. Akaashi feels like he can finally breathe again. 

The show is over way too quickly. He could watch Bokuto incessantly. He’s winding down from the high of the show, watching the band, Bokuto specifically, walk off stage. His adrenaline is still pumping when he gets the text message that he doesn’t even have to wait for. 

**Bokuto / 11:42 p.m.** **  
** **Stick arnd? :)**

**Sent to Bokuto / 11:42 p.m.** **  
** **Absolutely.**

“That was,” Yukie begins, walking away from the stage to make her way to the bar again. She turns around to face Akaashi, dangerously walking backward for someone who is still wearing heels and has alcohol in her system. “Wicked cool.” She uses her hands to emphasize. “We’re going to the next one, Akaashi. That was so fun. I’m having such a good time.”

“I can tell,” he laughs, grabbing her arm to stop her from running backward into someone. She turns back around, walking the right way, but still looking back towards Akaashi who is shaking his head. He has a genuine smile on his face and he’s not even trying to hide it. 

“And oh my god. He’s so hot. He’s so hot. Akaashi, babe, I didn’t think he would be that hot. I’m sorry, I just didn’t,” she moves her head around in a figure 8 motion, not paying any attention to the people Akaashi is ensuring that she avoids. “I’m sorry. I thought he would be average, but he is absolutely above average. So above average.”

She stops completely in her tracks, holding onto Akaashi’s arm to stop him as well. Again, no regard for the people moving around them. She holds steady onto him as she speaks, “I thought he was going to be reaching, but it looks like you’re a bit short.” She looks so serious that it almost pains him to laugh at her in response. 

“I know, Yukie, I know.” He drags her to the bar, purchasing two more beers, handing one of them to Yukie and her apologetic expression.

“I’m sorry. It had to be said, Keiji,” she takes a sip of her beer, thanking him with a nod, “He’s so hot.” 

“If you don’t stop repeating yourself, you might get stuck in that loop,” he tips his beer towards her before taking a sip of it. 

“But he is,” she pouts and then continues, “it’s not my fault that he looks like that.”

Akaashi pauses for a beat, “He does look like that, doesn’t he?”

“He absolutely does!” Yukie literally jumps up and down. Akaashi sits in wonderment of how she hasn’t broken her ankle yet with the amount of dancing, jumping, and clumsy moving she’s done tonight in heels. “The lead singer too. Wow, that is one tall glass of water.” She switches pace very quickly when she gets an idea. “Should we do a shot?” she asks for the 4th time tonight. 

Akaashi shakes his head in disagreement. “You do not need a shot and neither do I. Bokuto will be out in an hour or so probably.” 

Yukie waves her hand at Akaashi. “No fun.” She continues drinking her beer. “But what is fun is that I get to meet this guy.” Her devilish smile has returned. “Do you think the other guy will come out too?”

Akaashi shrugs, “He might.”

They spend their time waiting by dancing and drinking. It helps to pass the time and Akaashi’s convinced that his mood can’t be ruined. He’s also convinced that this is just the Gods repaying him for the horrible time that he had at the last show.

Compared to the last time that Bokuto said he would come out after the show, he makes his way out from backstage much quicker. Akaashi doesn’t even notice Bokuto sneak up behind him. It’s Yukie’s eyes that give it away, widening slightly and crinkling at the sides.

“Kaashi!!” Bokuto exclaims behind him. Without the unintentionally warning from Yukie, he probably would have gotten very frightened from how close Bokuto was to him. Turning around, he’s met with Bokuto who is in a hoodie now, but the same ripped jeans that he was performing with. He looks so different that it takes his breath away.  _ Sure, that’s what takes his breath away _ . 

“Bokuto, hey!” he tries to match Bokuto’s level of enthusiasm, but that’s nearly impossible. 

With everything that’s happened between them the past few weeks, some might have treaded lightly, tiptoeing around and minimizing touch. Not Bokuto. He pulls Akaashi into a hug. It’s not a weird half-hug like last time, but rather, a hug that completely envelopes Akaashi in warmth and strong muscles. 

Though he’s stunned for a moment, he reciprocates the hug quickly in fear that Bokuto will mistake his hesitancy for dismissal. Wrapping his arms around Bokuto to hug him back is the single most amazing thing he’s done for himself. It’s not just the feeling of Bokuto wrapped around him, but his scent and the sound of his breath in his ear. 

He lets go after an appropriate  _ God, he wishes he could hold on forever _ amount of time, dropping back to Yukie’s side who is taking in the entire situation that is unfolding in front of her. “Oh! Yes! Sorry, this is Yukie, my roommate and best friend.”

If Tsukishima were here he would be hitting Bokuto upside the head and repeating the words “I told you so” until his throat was sore. Bokuto feels a wash of relief and also pure happiness. He could pick her up and spin her, he’s so happy. 

“Nice to meet you, Yukie,” Bokuto says, shaking her hand like a normal human being.  _ Now, see, that’s not too hard, is it? _ Akaashi thinks, looking at their normal greeting, thinking back to the first time that they had met. 

“Likewise,” she says, a grin never leaving her face. Her eyes keep flickering between Bokuto and Akaashi and she’s feeling more bubbly than she has all night. 

“Did you enjoy the show? You can be honest,” Bokuto says and both Yukie and Akaashi know that it’s genuine. 

“Loved it. Every second of it. I had a blast,” Yukie’s enthusiasm is as real as it can be. 

“The only reason it was that good is because of your roommate,” Bokuto explains, his shoulders shrugging slightly like the sentence he said wasn’t a big deal at all.

Yukie tips her head to one side, curiously. “How so?”

“He’s my good luck charm,” Bokuto doesn’t even look at Yukie when he responds, making eye contact with Akaashi that has proved to him that everything he has worked so hard in life to get to has finally paid off. 

Before Akaashi has time to reply, witty remark or stammering adoration, the three of them are interrupted. “Hey hey hey! Bo can you-,” Kuroo begins as he approaches the trio. It doesn’t take long for Yukie to start batting her eyelashes. “Oh, sorry, I forgot you were,” he trails off, picking back up in another thought, “I’m Kuroo.”

“Yukie,” she pipes in first, extending her hand in which Kuroo grasps slightly. Is this what Bokuto and Akaashi look like when they’re interacting? If so, he has to change how they interact immediately. 

“Kuroo! This is Akaashi! Yukie is his roommate and best friend.” Bokuto clamps his hand on Kuroo’s shoulder, pulling him out of his eye contact with Yukie. He either didn’t read the room or simply didn’t care.

“Akaashi, I’ve heard so much about you,” Kuroo smiles, shaking Akaashi’s hand politely, but Akaashi can tell that he doesn’t really care about his friend’s crush right now. He has his own crush to worry about. His eyes quickly move back to Yukie who is smiling sweetly at the lead singer. 

“You guys did remarkable,” Yukie says to Kuroo, touching his arm just slightly. Akaashi is sure that his face looks disgusted right now watching the two of them. 

“Hey, do you want to go for a walk?” Bokuto asks, pulling Akaashi out of his grossed out trance. 

“A walk?” Akaashi questions.

Bokuto responds with a nod towards the door. “There’s a small path along the river if you want to get some fresh air. I know you’ve been cramped inside for a while. Plus, these two,” he motions with his eyes towards Yukie who might as well be chewing on her lip and twirling her hair around her finger. 

This causes Akaashi to giggle, holding his hand over his smile. Bokuto instinctively takes his hand away from his mouth, the sudden contact causing a blush to take over Akaashi’s face, wishing now even more that he was able to cover his face. The size of Bokuto’s smile only adding to the fire on his cheeks. 

“You guys go ahead! It’s a beautiful night!!! Kuroo-san will keep me company!” Yukie exclaims having obviously been eavesdropping despite how enthralled she is in her’s and Kuroo’s conversation. 

“Yeah, I think that’d be nice,” Akaashi admits to Bokuto. He turns to Yukie, “I’ll be back. Text me if you need me.” 

“I won’t! Have fun!” she waves as Akaashi and Bokuto walk towards the exit. 

* * *

It’s colder by the river than it was on any street in the city. The wind traveling over the water sends a slight chill to Akaashi’s spine. He’s grateful for the jean jacket that he’s wearing, though what he really wants is Bokuto’s comfy looking hoodie.  _ It probably smells like him _ . 

The fresh air, despite its slight chill, feels good on the parts of Akaashi’s skin that are exposed like his face and neck. He knows that his hair is a mess beyond fixing right now, so he doesn’t mind running his fingers through it. Bokuto hasn’t said a word the entire time that he’s been walking with Akaashi, but the silence is as refreshing as the air. 

“This is my favorite time of night,” Bokuto says, glancing up at the stars. Okay, Akaashi lied, the silence is no longer welcome, not when Bokuto’s words have set such a high bar. “Right after it turns into the next day. I know it’s probably not true, but I feel like it’s when the stars are the brightest like they’ve recharged and are on display when it hits midnight.”

Akaashi’s chest feels light listening to Bokuto’s astronomical theories. He feels like he can float as Bokuto keeps on, “I don’t know. It’s just, like, the stars, right? They dim throughout the day and even when it gets dark outside, but when it’s midnight, all the power that they saved from getting dim and staying off, it just brightens ‘em right up, y’know?” He pauses, his eyes still on the night sky, “I don’t know anything about the stars, but it feels right.”

Akaashi doesn’t know whether he should be staring up at the stars, finding peace in the fact that they’re looking at the same sight, or if he should be staring at Bokuto, watching the stars’ reflection on his golden irises. He looks up into the sky first. He’s never noticed it, but now that Bokuto’s pointed it out, they do seem brighter right now than they did on his way to the venue with Yukie. Maybe he’s right. Or maybe he just wasn’t sharing them with the right person. 

“It feels right,” Akaashi agrees. He has traded looking at the stars for settling for the reflections of the glowing lights in Bokuto’s eyes. He much prefers this. They keep walking, the silence setting back in, much to Akaashi’s dismay. He wishes that Bokuto would keep talking forever about anything that he wanted. Akaashi wasn’t picky. 

“Thanks for coming tonight,” Bokuto offers. This was different from the usual thanks that Bokuto gave Akaashi for coming to his shows. This thanks wasn’t just  _ thanks for coming to the show,  _ it was  _ thanks for giving me another chance _ . Akaashi didn’t have to push and prod to know this. 

“Of course. I’m so glad that I came,” Akaashi replies. He hopes that Bokuto can read the  _ I’m so elated that I gave you a second chance  _ in his words. Akaashi can’t stop fidgeting his hands inside the sleeves of his jacket, wrapping his sweater around them and rubbing his fingers together. He shouldn’t have to read into Akaashi’s reply. His palms feel sweaty. He puts his sweater in his hand, wiping off as much as the clamminess as possible before poking it out of his sleeve. His heart should not be racing as fast as it is, but that doesn’t stop it from doing so. 

Akaashi’s walking close enough to Bokuto that he doesn’t have to move in position. He only has to extend his arm out slightly to the side and hold onto Bokuto’s hand. He doesn’t want to startle him or weird him out. 

Akaashi feels like a 12-year-old kid again.  _ Do you wanna hold hands? _ Akaashi mocks himself in his own head. 

One steady breath later and the courage is finally mustered up in his chest. He extends his hand out slightly, his fist brushing against Bokuto’s open palm which flinches almost unnoticeably before staying completely still. He pushes his hand into Bokuto’s a bit more forcefully this time. When his knuckles are pressed up against Bokuto’s calloused palm, he opens his fist, tucking his fingers between Bokuto’s. 

If he wasn’t so focused on steadying his own breathing, he would have noticed the small hitch in Bokuto’s as Akaashi wrapped his fingers around Bokuto’s hand, intertwining them tightly. Bokuto’s hand is much rougher than Akaashi imagined it would be, but it makes sense. The calluses on his fingers rub against Akaashi’s knuckles. Akaashi’s hand, on the contrary, is so much softer than Bokuto could have ever dreamed of. 

Walking hand in hand with Bokuto, a smile on his face that should be illegal in most countries, his head swaying back and forth, unable to walk in a straight line, occasionally bumping into Akaashi when he walks too far to the right, Akaashi can’t help but realize something that he can’t believe he hasn’t seen in the entire time they’ve known each other. 

Bokuto’s carefree attitude, his constant joy, the way that he never apologies for who he is or what’s going on inside of his head, he’s envious of it. Their entire relationship, Akaashi has spent obsessively thinking about what Bokuto thinks, what Yukie thinks, what the world will think. It’s where most of his anxieties stem from, his quietness on the outside. 

“I’m jealous of you, y’know?” Akaashi breaks the silence. He pauses for a beat and reiterates, “I wish I were more like you, sometimes, is what I meant.”

Bokuto mulls over the meaning of whatever he had just said before speaking, “Like how?”

“Like,” Akaashi pauses, thinking of the best way to phrase it, “you’re just always happy and you don’t care what others think about you and you’re passionate and animated and oh my god, you’re so confident. I’m just quiet and I don’t know how to take a compliment or speak in front of more than 4 people that I don’t know.”

“I care what you think about me,” Bokuto admits, making Akaashi feel all sorts of different ways.

“Okay, well, I mean, I care what you think about me too, but that’s not the entire point. I just mean that you’re incredibly just,” Akaashi moves his hands around hoping it makes some sort of sense, “great.” is the word that Akaashi settles on because he feels like it sums it up pretty perfectly. 

They’re both quiet, hands still pressed together, keeping the same slow pace. “I wish I were more like you,” Bokuto confesses. 

“What are you talking about?” Akaashi is completely taken aback. 

“You’re so mature and respectable. You’re ridiculously smart, people know it, you know it. You’re not confident, sure, but no one else would ever know. You know how to talk to anyone and you know when to be quiet. I’ve been told that I’m too loud for almost my entire life,” Bokuto spills. 

“You’re not too loud,” Akaashi squeezes Bokuto’s hand as he speaks, hoping that it reassures him even more so. “I like you exactly how you are.”

The two walk, neither of them speaking up for a bit, just reveling in each other’s company and their previous conversation. The river, their steps, and the distant city are all making plenty of noise to compensate for their lack of talking until Bokuto starts another thought. 

“I meant it,” Bokuto says, still looking up at the sky for the time being, but his thumb is rubbing against Akaashi’s in a way that is upsetting the numerous butterflies in his stomach. 

“Hm?” Akaashi hums in response, urging Bokuto to continue (both his sentence and his thumb rubbing over his).

“I think you’re really pretty,” Bokuto says, his voice much braver than Akaashi’s would have been for a statement like that. Bokuto’s eyes have shifted from the sky to Akaashi’s eyes, making eye contact that neither of them dared to break, but Akaashi couldn’t help it. His face felt like it was on fire and all he wanted to do was hide in Bokuto’s chest. He looked away from Bokuto, a wide smile taking up most of his face. Bokuto’s movement had halted and, with his hand still in Akaashi’s, so did Akaashi’s. 

Bokuto raised his other hand up, turning Akaashi’s face to his, demanding eye contact. Akaashi’s eyes couldn’t focus on Bokuto, his mind wandering far too quickly to let himself concentrate on the absolutely gorgeous man in front of him that has the audacity to call him pretty. 

“You hide your smile a lot,” Bokuto remarks. Akaashi thinks about rebutting with a joke at his own expense, but Bokuto’s eyes are serious. “Your smile is one of the prettiest things about you, but you like to hide it a lot, behind your beer, behind your hand, looking the other direction.” Bokuto reaches his thumb up, almost touching Akaashi’s bottom lip. He knows that Bokuto could feel his entire body shiver.

Akaashi’s incoming smile also comes with the overwhelming urge to cover his face. If it weren’t for Bokuto’s grip on his chin, he might have moved it. He’s positive that Bokuto felt him try to move his face away when the smile arises because his thumb grazes Akaashi’s bottom lip and his other fingers cup his cheek. His eyes aren’t staring into his, but alternatively are stuck on his lips. 

_ Please kiss me _ . 

Akaashi feels himself being pulled to Bokuto as if their lips were opposite ends of two magnets, this force bringing them together until he can feel Bokuto’s breath on his lips, licking over them to combat any hint of dryness. He wants to close his eyes, but Bokuto’s are still open and the shine of pure gold is too captivating the miss. Their foreheads touch first; the contact causing Akaashi’s eyes to flutter shut. He tilts his chin upwards, tilting out slightly to the left until he feels his upper lip graze against Bokuto’s bottom lip. 

If this is the only contact that their lips ever got,  _ (okay, he wouldn’t be satisfied, but like,)  _ at least they made it count. It felt nearly electric, this slow contact. He extends his neck a bit, leveling out their lips and pressing them together once again. This time landing perfectly in place. 

Though his hands were rough and calloused, his lips were soft. With his hand that wasn’t intertwined with Bokuto’s, he finds out that his hair, despite its usual spikey, product look, is soft as well. It feels so good in his hand. He never wants to let it go. He doesn’t know which part of their touch that he should hyperfocus on. He doesn’t want to forget anything about this moment. 

His lips part only slightly allowing Bokuto to run his tongue against his bottom lip. With Bokuto’s hand on his lower back, he knows this is the second time tonight that Bokuto can feel the shiver on his spine. His tongue meets Bokuto’s as he mimics the same move, sliding his tongue over Bokuto’s bottom lip before gently sucking on it, his hand grasping tighter in Bokuto’s hair. 

Bokuto is the first one to pull away. His bottom lip is slightly swollen and his chest is rising and falling with his breath. “Sorry,” he apologizes, his forehead still resting against Akaashi’s. Akaashi would have told him not to apologize, but he’s feeling pouty without Bokuto’s lips on his. “I just- If I didn’t stop- I-,” he takes a second to catch his breath, “We’re in public, Kaashi.”

Akaashi blushes at everything that just happened: the stammering, his nickname, the pause to get his breath back, the possibilities of what the phrase  _ we’re in public, Kaashi _ even means. He pulls him back in for another kiss, keeping his tongue to himself this time and taking in every smell, touch, sound, and taste that he can. 

“Will you come to my next show? It’s next Saturday. There’s going to be a huge representative there that might recruit us and I can’t do it without you,” Bokuto says immediately after pulling away from Akaashi’s lips. 

“Of course. Of course. No question,” Akaashi replies, eager to put his lips back on Bokuto’s. “What are good luck charms for?” He presses his lips back against Bokuto’s feeling his smile against his own. 

When they break away from their (8th? 9th? 23rd?) _(_ _ They’ve lost count _ _)_ kiss, Akaashi begrudgingly checks the time and tells Bokuto that they should probably make their way back to the venue, despite knowing that Yukie and Kuroo are probably keeping themselves as entertained as they were. 

Bokuto laughs, a sound special enough to be trapped in Akaashi’s memory forever. “Okay, Kaashi. Come on,” he interlocks his fingers back together with Akaashi’s, fingers that used to be in Akaashi’s hair and on the back of his neck. Akaashi wants them back there instead, but he’ll settle  _ (it’s not really settling) _ for them intertwined with his own the entire way back to the venue. They only stop 2 or 3 times when Bokuto pulls Akaashi into him, pressing their lips together and getting so carried away that Akaashi is giggling when he pulls away. He doesn’t ever want this night to end. 

* * *

Their entire way back home, Yukie is listening to every single detail that Akaashi is telling her about Bokuto and their talks and their kisses. Akaashi listens to Yukie talk about Kuroo, but does Akaashi a favor in sparing most of the details. Even having had one of the best nights of his life with Bokuto, he doesn’t stop texting him all night, especially when he gets home safe. Bokuto was very adamant about that one. 

Stepping into their shared space, Yukie’s face lights up. “Oh! Oh!” She takes off her heels immediately, but then smiles, opening her, now that Akaashi notices, seemingly very large bag. “Bokuto wanted me to make sure that you got this.” She pulls a large item of clothing from her bag, thrusting it forwards at Akaashi.

“What?” he takes it from her and unfolds it revealing Bokuto’s hoodie that he was wearing at the show. “No! What? Why?”

Yukie shrugs, “He said you had been eyeing it all night.” She puts air quotes up, “though come to think of it, maybe he was just eyeing me all night.” Akaashi reddens. “Either way, he said he wanted me to give this to you. Said it’ll give him an excuse to try to get it back.”

“Why didn’t he just give it to me?” Akaashi’s smile turns into a pout very suddenly as he thinks about Bokuto pulling the hoodie off of his body, his shirt underneath it riding up slightly before falling back into place. 

“He said he didn’t think you’d take it,” Yukie has already made her way into her bedroom. Akaashi can hear her clothes being thrown around despite the door being wide open. “You probably wouldn’t have.  _ Oh, Bokuto-chan, you’ll be so cold. I could never take this away from you _ ,” she mocks from down the hallway.

“If you weren’t probably naked, I would throw something at you,” Akaashi calls, “but also, probably not because I’m very grateful for you transporting this safe and sound.” Akaashi holds out the hoodie, looking at it in the light before pulling it into his face and inhaling the scent. It smells exactly like him. 

“You’re welcome, Akaashi-kun,” she laughs before shutting her door. 

Akaashi changes into his pajamas, placing his dirty clothes in his hamper neatly.  _ Bokuto probably doesn’t put his clothes in a hamper. That’s okay. I can put his clothes in the hamper. It’s no problem.  _

His room isn’t particularly cold, but Bokuto’s hoodie is the most comfortable thing he’s ever worn. He hugs himself in it, flopping into bed with a smile on his face. Much like earlier, he contemplates sending Bokuto a picture of himself in his hoodie. He decides to just text him a thank you instead.

**Sent to Bokuto / 3:49 a.m.** **  
** **Ty for the hoodie. It is very cozy n I love it.**

**Bokuto / 3:49 a.m.** **  
** **!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I bet U lookrly good in it :)**

Well, now Akaashi can’t just not send him a picture. 

**Sent to Bokuto / 3:51 a.m.** **  
** ***1 image attached***

**Bokuto / 3:51 a.m.** **  
** **BRB died**

**Bokuto / 3:51 a.m.** **  
** **MY Kaashi U look so GOOD its ILLEGAL**

**Sent to Bokuto / 3:52 a.m.** **  
** **Ur Kaashi?**

**Bokuto / 3:52 a.m.** **  
** **!!! :) YES !!!!:))))**

Akaashi pulls the blankets over his chest, even though he doesn’t really need them. He feels so at peace, so comfortable, but there’s no way that he can fall asleep right now. Every song from their performance tonight is thumping in his head. He can feel every beat in his chest. After having told Bokuto he was going to try to go to sleep, he’s pulling his phone back out to send him distress texts. 

**Sent to Bokuto / 4:18 a.m.** **  
** **I can’t sleep. :( ur music is still pounding in my head n chest. I don’t know how music works, really.**

**Sent to Bokuto / 4:19 a.m.** **  
** **I think I can hear each separate note that you played tonight, though. My heart won’t let me forget them.**

When he doesn’t get a prompt reply, his anxiety starts creeping up on him. Despite the fact that he had the best time of his life tonight, there’s a fear that starts to settle in his mind that’s telling him that his texts came on too strong. 

He’s startled and pulled out of his thoughts when his phone starts buzzing. His phone buzzes twice and Akaashi expects it to stop, simply notifying him that Bokuto has sent his reply, but the buzzing doesn’t stop. This was uncharted territory. Bokuto’s name is spelled out in large letters at the top of his phone screen. This was a time-sensitive issue.  _ Answer the phone, Akaashi. _

He answers the phone, sliding the button across the bottom of the screen. “Hey,” is all he can think to say as he presses the phone against his ear. It’s quiet for a few seconds, Akaashi spends them wondering if Bokuto can hear his heartbeat on his side of the phone, that maybe he can hear it pounding in his ear that’s right next to the speaker or maybe it’s so loud that he can hear it straight from his chest. 

“Hey.” Bokuto’s voice is much quieter than he’s ever heard it. There’s a softness to it that he’s never heard before, not even on their walk. “Sorry for calling, I-.”

“Don’t apologize,” Akaashi cuts him off. He feels rude for interrupting, but Akaashi can’t let Bokuto feel guilty for even a fraction of a second. It works, he assumes, because Bokuto laughs and even though he’s miles and miles away, the hair on Akaashi’s neck stands up. 

“Well, then, I’m not sorry for calling.” They’re both quiet for another few seconds, but this silence is much more comfortable. “I just, uh,” Bokuto continues his thought from earlier and Akaashi makes sure not to interrupt him this time. “You can’t sleep?” he asks, changing course. 

Akaashi is glad that they’re not video chatting or face to face because these three words have Akaashi feeling warm for a few different reasons. He shakes his head against the pillow and he knows that his hair will suffer for it tomorrow morning. “Nope,” he voices.

“Because of my-,” he corrects himself, “our music?”

“It was a really good show.”

Bokuto is not a stranger to losing the ability to sleep after a show, especially a particularly good one. “I uh,” he clears his throat, trying to get rid of the timidness in his voice, “I might be able to help.”

Akaashi’s attention is peaked and his mind starts racing to all of the ways that Bokuto could help him fall asleep. Some of the thoughts are harmless and domestic. These include Bokuto making him tea and smoothing his messy hair as he sits on the bed, creating just enough of a weight that Akaashi knows he’s there from the feeling of the bed alone. There’s another thought that flashes of Bokuto’s chest pressed against Akaashi’s spine, holding him so tightly in his arms that he couldn’t fidget if he tried. 

Some of these thoughts are not as harmless. These thoughts make Akaashi’s heart flutter and a quick heat form in his lower stomach. They include a lot more touching, if that’s possible (it definitely was) than the domestic thoughts and a lot less between them. He wants to indulge in these thoughts, but maybe not while the person in fantasizing question is on the other side of the phone, listening to him and his irregular breathing. 

“Kaashi?” 

The nickname pulls Akaashi completely out of his thoughts. He is both grateful and hateful for this. “Hm?” he responds. He doesn’t know exactly what Bokuto had said while he was deep in thought. 

“Is that okay?” Bokuto asks, evidently repeating himself. 

“Um, yes.” Akaashi doesn’t know exactly what he’s getting himself into, but he trusts Bokuto. Besides, how much damage could he actually do through the phone? His other option was telling him that he didn’t hear what he was saying because he was lost in thoughts of Bokuto’s hands and what they could do to him. That was definitely not happening. He’s going to go with the blind trust. 

“Okay, okay. Hold on one second,” Bokuto says. He sounds excited and any ounce of uncertainty that he had in his body is gone. Though Bokuto has obviously set his phone down, he can hear him somewhere in the room rustling various objects around. The anticipation would have typically caused his mind to wander a bit obsessively, but hearing the sounds of Bokuto rummaging through his room is allowing his mind to focus on something more positive. The noise gets closer to the phone. “Okay, hi. I’m back.”

Akaashi actually giggles at this, a tint of pink embarrassment falling on his cheekbones as he lets it escape him. “Hi, Bokuto.”

“Are you ready?” Bokuto asks but doesn’t let Akaashi answer. “Just, beware, this is all really new to me and I don’t know exactly how it works, but yeah. Okay. Ready?”

Now he definitely has no idea what Bokuto is about to do, but he responds bravely anyway, “Yes. Ready.” He hears an inhale from the other line and a very soft, almost inaudible,  _ 1, 2, 3, 4… _ before a very soft, but recognizable melody starts playing. Akaashi doesn’t know much about music, but he knows enough to recognize that Bokuto’s instrument is typically there to create a harmony with the other instruments and to drive a rhythm for the band. Here, slightly muffled by the confines of technology, Bokuto’s bass is thriving on its own. 

Akaashi identifies the song as “Fly Me To The Moon” by Frank Sinatra almost instantly after Bokuto starts playing. The song is completely different from what Crowlster’s music is. The style, the tempo, the mood, everything is completely different than what Bokuto normally produces. It’s not as technically sound as Bokuto’s performances usually are, but Bokuto did warn him of that. 

For Bokuto being “really new” and not knowing “exactly how it works”, he’s doing an incredible job. The solo arrangement that Bokuto is playing right now is satisfying the continual thumping of the beat from earlier in the night. Its destructive interference has completely canceled out the previous repetitive beat in his head. 

The entire point of Bokuto playing him this song was for Akaashi’s mind to relax and for him to have an easier time falling asleep. In Bokuto’s defense, Akaashi is absolutely feeling more relaxed, but he’s not sure that he’s going to have an easier time falling asleep now. His eyelids are starting to feel heavier, but Akaashi is trying to force himself to stay up so that he can continue listening to Bokuto play the bass just for him. 

He’s not sure exactly when the phone falls from his cheek and onto the pillow, his shoulder too tired and heavy to stay taut against the phone. Bokuto keeps playing the same song over and over again. He’s happy to get more practice in, though that’s not the only reason he continues to play. With his phone on speaker and his fingers plucking the strings ever so softly, he can hear Akaashi’s pattern-like breaths, proving to him that he’s fallen fast asleep. Playing the song once more, he shamelessly uses his bass as a reason to listen to Akaashi sleep, smiling at each small grumble and slightly larger breath out from his nose. He can’t bring himself to hang up the phone in fears of the chime waking up Akaashi, or rather, that’s the excuse he tells himself. 

Even after he’s done playing, his fingers starting to tire from the same repetitive motions, he hangs over the instrument and stares down at his phone. “Goodnight, Kaashi,” he says softly into the phone, a dopey smile refusing to leave his lips. Akaashi grumbles in response and Bokuto can imagine an adorable pout taking over his face as Bokuto disturbs him ever so slightly. He swears that he hears Akaashi say his name in his sleep. 

* * *

Akaashi awakens the next morning due to a particularly piercing snore coming from…  _ Who is that coming from? _ His confusion turns into fear pretty quickly as he tries to figure out who is in his room snoring so loudly. It takes him longer than he wants to admit to trace the succeeding softer snores back to his phone sitting on his pillow. Bokuto’s name and a ridiculous amount of time displaying proudly on the screen. The confusion-turned-fear has now turned endearment as he smiles fondly at the device on his pillow, laughing every time Bokuto snores. 

Though it is 10 in the morning, meaning that he has only gotten 6 hours of sleep, Akaashi is feeling more rested than he has all week. He can only attribute this to the amazing sleep that he had just gotten which he can attribute to the idiot on the other side of the phone who is presumably drooling onto his pillow. Akaashi doesn’t exactly know how to handle the situation at hand. He doesn’t want to wake Bokuto up, but he also doesn’t want to hang up on him. 

Akaashi decides that there are plenty of things that he can do to pass the time and not have to choose between waking him up and hanging up on the adorable sleeping man. 

It’s not until 11:30 that Bokuto starts to stir. Akaashi has cleaned his room twice over, made breakfast, and has started looking over his papers from work that aren’t due for another 2 months. 

As mentioned before, this was uncharted territory. Talking on the phone was not something that they had ever done before, but here they were now on the phone for almost 9 hours. Akaashi can hear Bokuto waking up, turning over once or twice abruptly, groaning as he sits up, making little noises as he stretches. It takes Bokuto almost as long as it had taken Akaashi to realize that their phone call was still active. 

“Kaashi?” Bokuto’s voice has no business affecting Akaashi as much as it is right now, right after he’s woken up the morning after a particularly incredible show. It’s raspy and tired and hypnotic. Akaashi can’t even think of a reply, not even the word that means agreeing to things. He just wants to hear Bokuto say his name over and over again. He feels almost drunk on it. 

Bokuto clears his throat gently, just in case Akaashi had still been sleeping. Some of the sleepiness is gone, but the sound that’s coming out of his throat is still mesmeric. “Kaashi?” he calls again.

Akaashi is so deep in a trance by Bokuto’s tone that he hasn’t even thought about what he’s going to say to Bokuto about staying on the phone with him for an hour and a half for no reason.  _ The reason was to hear him sleeping. _ For no reason. “Hm?” Akaashi hums in response, forgoing a verbal response for a simple vibration. 

“Oh, hey. Were you sleeping? Sorry.” His voice is still as soft as it was last night.  _ Last night _ . Akaashi feels rosy as he thinks about the events of last night. The amazing show, the copious amount of kisses they shared, Bokuto playing songs for him to fall asleep to. 

“No, it’s okay. I was awake,” he leaves it at that, not adding in the fact that he was listening to Bokuto sleep as he was doing his numerous chores. 

“Sorry I didn’t hang up the phone last night,” the sleepiness still resides in his voice and it’s making Akaashi feel giddy. “I didn’t want to wake you after you fell asleep. I must have dozed off too.”

“That’s okay,” Akaashi breathes, sitting down on his bed, God forbid his knees give out on him due to how adorable Bokuto is being right now. 

There’s an uncertain pause before Bokuto speaks again. “Are you still wearing my hoodie?” he asks, innocently enough for someone whose tongue was in his mouth less than 12 hours ago. 

Akaashi’s heart laughs at how much he’s affected by this sentence. “Yeah.” He feels warmer now, despite the temperature not changing. 

“I bet you look good in it still,” Bokuto is way too confident in the mornings. Akaashi makes a mental note. “We should probably set a time to meet up so I can get it back, y’know?”

“You’re delusional if you think you’re getting this back,” Akaashi jokes. He knows that if Bokuto actually wanted it back, he would give it up in a second. 

“Fine, then we should meet up for my payment then at least.”

“You gave it to me!” Akaashi protests.

“I just want to see you in it and kiss you in it, is that so much to ask for?”

This stuns Akaashi into a breathy silence. “Uh, um, No. Definitely not.”

“I’m just trying to see my Kaashi again.” Bokuto is really trying to kill Akaashi at 11:46 on a Saturday, huh? 

“We should definitely make plans so that you can get payment for your super soft and comfortable hoodie, then, yes,” Akaashi tries to recompose himself and change the subject. He might literally die if he calls him “my Kaashi” again. 

“Maybe you should send me some sort of payment upfront too, y’know? Just to make sure I know you’ll follow through,” Bokuto teases on the other side of the phone. Akaashi can think of plenty of ways to give him upfront payments right now, but they’re probably a bit more than Bokuto has bargained for. 

“What’s that?” Akaashi indulges him.

“Nothing, just that that picture you sent me last night might be my favorite picture forever if I don’t have another one to take its place.” Akaashi scratches the mental note in his head. Bokuto is  **way too confident and much too smooth** in the morning for Akaashi to handle. He makes sure to bold it, underline it, and circle it multiple times. 

This doesn’t stop Akaashi from sending the picture with a pinch bit of more skin in it this time. It also does not stop Akaashi from making plans to meet up with Bokuto so that he can kiss him many, many, many more times. It  _ also  _ does not stop Akaashi from calling Bokuto every morning to hear his tired voice and all the ways that Bokuto thinks he’s the prettiest person on the entire planet. 

Everything about this morning sets a precedent for the week to come.

It’s going to be a good week. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Leave me a tip or commission me! ](https://ko-fi.com/toriiixoox)   
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> 
> thank you so much for reading! feel free to leave a comment and/or a kudo! they are more appreciated than you know!!!
> 
> i've already started working on the last chapter and i am not even halfway done with it and it's already 15k words so listen to me I'm splitting it into 2 parts so the fic will now be 6 parts (7 parts including an epilogue i think) IM SORRY THAT I MADE IT LONGER, MORE CHAPTERS THAN PLANNED BUT LIKE THE LAST CHAPTER BECAME SO MUCH MORE THAN I THOUGHT IT WAS GOING TO BE.
> 
> ALSO in writing the next chapter, i have added smut, i didn't mean to. it just slipped. I'll be changing the rating and there will be smut in the last two chapters. light smut in the first part, heavy smut in the second. i really wasn't intending for their to be smut, but it just FELT RIGHT T-T anyways
> 
> again, thank you so much for reading! your comments make my day! follow me on tumblr @a-kaash-me-outside if you're into that. i love friends!


	5. ch5 / interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> small (it's more than 13k words) interlude between shows for my babes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> typically I post each chapter as venues/shows, but it just felt right to write this. so I broke it into two parts! and here is this small interlude of the week between the last show and the final show!
> 
> HAPPY BOKUAKA WEEK HAVE TWO PARTS AT ONCE 
> 
> there is a tiny baby bit of smut, nothing too bad!

Akaashi spends the rest of the weekend feeling giddy about Friday’s events and constantly sending texts back and forth with Bokuto. He doesn’t go anywhere without his phone in his hands. Yukie won’t stop teasing him about it, but she sees the drastic change in mood that Akaashi’s undergone in just a short period of time.

It’s funny, really, how Bokuto and Akaashi never run out of things to talk about. Bokuto’s curiosity and bewilderment have proved to be the driving factor of their creative conversations. When they’re not texting each other, they’re talking to each other on the phone. Their weekends are consumed with each other and neither of them seems to mind.

After many conversations about their favorite meals of the day, Bokuto finally asks Akaashi if he wants to join him for one. On Sunday, they go to brunch. Between the two of them, Akaashi seems much more of the brunch type than Bokuto. There’s something about a cup of breakfast tea with his lunch that screams Akaashi, but it’s actually Bokuto that ends up pushing for brunch. 

“Brunch?” Akaashi had asked, his phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear as he made a cup of tea. 

“Yeah! We’re always talking anyways at this ungodly hour, we might as well meet up so I can see you in person!” 

“Firstly, it’s almost noon, so I don’t know exactly what you mean by ‘ungodly hour’. Secondly, why not just breakfast  _ or  _ lunch?” Akaashi questioned. He knew that Bokuto had been getting up at the same time, or just a little bit later than Akaashi was. This was very new territory for the bassist. 

“Why choose when you could have BOTH, Kaashi?” Bokuto questioned back, ever so enthusiastically, “Plus, mimosas.” It suddenly made sense why Bokuto loved the idea of brunch. 

Akaashi rolled his eyes in the most endearing way that he could muster. “Okay, Bokuto. Sounds good. Sunday, then?” 

“It’s a date!” Bokuto exclaimed, causing Akaashi to jump backward ever so slightly. 

When they actually had brunch on Sunday, it goes as well as Akaashi thought it was, which is to say… amazing. There was something so domestic about Bokuto trying Akaashi’s tea and telling him how good it tasted, that he’s never made tea that’s tasted that good, that he wished Akaashi could make him tea at home. There was something so charming about Bokuto pushing his mimosa towards Akaashi and telling him that it’s only fair that he try his too, despite Akaashi’s protest about drinking this early. “Plus, it’s like we’re kissing through the cups,” he had raised his eyebrows and winked at Akaashi who couldn’t stifle his laughter. He’d much rather just kiss him for real. 

Thinking back at everything that had happened the previous week, it was almost unbelievable that Bokuto was sitting here with him eating brunch on a Sunday morning. Each time that Akaashi felt himself floating away from the reality of the situation, he would reach his hand out and place it on Bokuto’s arm to keep him grounded. Bokuto rarely reacted to the hand placement, as if it was just supposed to be there.

Akaashi had paid for the meal before Bokuto even had the chance to protest, explaining that Bokuto had to travel farther than Akaashi and even if he hadn’t, Akaashi would have been honored to buy him brunch. Plus, he’s sure there would be many more brunches to come where they could fight over the bill. 

* * *

On Tuesday, Bokuto met Akaashi on his lunch break. Normally, Akaashi would sit on the bench outside of his building alone in silence, texting Bokuto back and eating from the bento he’d prepared himself earlier that morning. 

The silence during his lunch breaks was never a concept that was unwelcome. His work was never particularly loud, but the constant chatter from his coworkers, the never-ending shuffling of papers, and the miscellaneous clattering of random objects created an atmospheric buzz. The only time that he could get away from all of the noise was during his lunch hour. 

When he was outside, there was, obviously, still noise. The rumble of the cars in the parking lot, the occasional bird chirp, the wind blowing through the grass, they were all prevalent in Akaashi’s time of “silence”, but they were unpredictable, nonmonotonic, and refreshing compared to the dull commotion inside. 

Agreeing to share this time with Bokuto meant that his peaceful ambient outside noises was completely drowned out and his one hour away from his tedious work was no longer undisturbed. It’s evident why Akaashi would be feeling hesitant in agreeing to Bokuto joining him. 

But Akaashi wasn’t hesitant at all. 

If it were anyone else, he would instantly decline a lunch invitation. It’s not that he didn’t like spending time with the people that had asked, it’s just that his lunch break was such an important part of keeping himself sane. The thought of disrupting this pattern was typically means for a mild anxiety spike. This wasn’t the case with Bokuto. 

When Bokuto texted him as he was walking into work and asked him if he wanted company during lunch, it had only made him more excited for his lunch break. Even with Akaashi’s numerous warnings that his break was only an hour and that Bokuto didn’t have to make the commute just to see him for an hour, Bokuto excitedly replied that he would be there at noon on the dot. 

Akaashi never pegged Bokuto as someone who was on time often, but as soon as Akaashi punched his time card to notify that he was taking his break, he got the text that Bokuto was in the parking lot. 

It felt almost taboo sharing his bench with Bokuto. It was more intimate than he expected it to be, just sitting next to Bokuto on the small bench, the outside of his one thigh pressed against Bokuto’s. He had never shared this sacred lunch spot with anyone else, but in a single instant (the instant where Bokuto threw his head back to laugh and placed his hand right above Akaashi’s knee, squeezing gently), this space didn’t just feel like his anymore. 

Akaashi started thinking of all of the other places that he considered just his and how he could invite Bokuto to share every separate one of them with him. 

On this particular lunch date, Bokuto forgot to bring anything to eat, excusing himself by telling Akaashi that he was “way too excited to see my Kaashi!!!!” Needless to say, Akaashi let it slide, offering one of his onigiri and some of his soba. It was a small price to pay for the amount of praise Akaashi got on his cooking. He had first asked if Yukie had made his bento for him, then asked if he had gotten it from somewhere, and finally resorted to the unthinkable, that Akaashi had made his own lunch.

In his defense, Bokuto didn’t let that thought cross his mind until it was a last resort. Knowing that Akaashi was pretty, smart, charismatic, funny, and  _ now _ , to add to that list, a good cook, was detrimental to his health and heart. Akaashi teased Bokuto for how little he thought of him, but easily forgave him from the pure adoration on his face when he told Akaashi that he was such a good cook. 

This lunch break was one of Akaashi’s best to date, even if the time flew by. The hour was gone before either of them had known it. Akaashi was unnecessarily apologetic about how little time they got to spend together. Bokuto didn’t mind, though, there was something so endearing about listening to Akaashi apologize endlessly about the concept of time and space. 

“Kaashi, it’s okay,” he had said after letting him drone on with apologies for far too long.

“I just feel bad that you spent the time and money to come meet me for lunch and we only got to spend barely an hour together,” Akaashi said, his eyes apologizing now that his voice had stopped. 

Bokuto couldn’t help but run his fingers through Akaashi’s hair. It wasn’t as thoughtfully put together as it had been on Friday, but that also meant that it was much softer than Friday. There were no hard points or rigid strands from whatever product he had used. Each strand soft as they parted, giving way to Bokuto’s finger as they glided against his scalp. 

Akaashi’s eyes fluttered closed at the unexpected touch, his breath slowing, just soaking up the closeness of the situation. When Bokuto’s hand reached the back of Akaashi’s head, he used it as leverage to pull Akaashi closer to him, pressing a kiss gently on his forehead and then even more gently on his lips. The kiss was so soft that Akaashi thought that he could still feel it after Bokuto had pulled away. 

“It’s okay, Kaashi. I had a great time,” Bokuto said, a subtle smirk on his face. It was a nice thing to open his eyes to. 

Glancing down at his watch, he knew that if he stayed outside with Bokuto any longer, he risked clocking back in late. 

“Will you kiss me again?” Akaashi asked, suddenly feeling small, his voice and question surprising himself more than Bokuto whose grin widened at the request. Moving his hand from his hair to the nape of his neck, using this as leverage to pull Akaashi to him, Bokuto meets Akaashi’s lips with his. Their kiss is longer this time. Akaashi doesn’t have to think that Bokuto’s lips are lingering because he can feel them lingering. It takes every ounce of willpower that he has to pull away, especially when Bokuto’s tongue swipes against the small part of his lips.

He could absolutely get used to the company. 

* * *

On Wednesday, Akaashi was invited over to Bokuto's apartment to hang out with him, Tsukishima, and Kuroo. The band’s apartment was much closer to his work than he knew so he had just planned on heading over there as soon as he got out of work. It felt pointless going all the way back home just to get changed and pick up a case of beer, but his work outfit had felt so tight and professional for a casual hang-out with his  _ (what even is Bokuto to him?) _ crush (?) and his best friends. All throughout the day at work, in between his tasks and assignments, Akaashi was contemplating the best plan of action.

He had almost bailed on their plans altogether. He didn’t want to feel uncomfortable all night, he had nothing to bring to contribute, he had work early tomorrow morning, and, the biggest hindrance, he was nervous to hang out with Bokuto’s friends. He had only met Kuroo twice, once not even actually greeting him, and he had never even met Tsukishima, only seeing him on the back corner of the stage a handful of times.

Of course, Akaashi had texted most of these concerns to Bokuto over the course of his work day, scattered between his to-do list. It was foreign territory for them, Akaashi especially, to be airing the nervousness and anxieties. Bokuto could not have responded better. After his first text, worrying about his clothes and having to go all the way back home just to change, Bokuto hadn’t dismissed his concerns or just sent apologetic filler. Instead, he had offered (literally) 7 different solutions, one of which being that he didn’t have to come all the way out to hang out with them if it was too much of a hassle. Another one of the solutions being that Akaashi could just change into one of his t-shirts. Just thinking about it made Akaashi feel more at ease. 

Bokuto also reassured Akaashi numerous times that they had plenty of beer in the fridge and that Akaashi didn’t have to bring anything. He took the time to listen to every aspect of what was worrying Akaashi about that evening and tried to help each one. It was refreshing having someone to talk to about the obsessive voices in his head and even more refreshing being rid of them. 

The only one that still resided was his irrational (maybe rational, he didn’t know yet) fear of not fitting in and getting along with Bokuto’s friends. Even still, he decided that seeing Bokuto was probably worth whatever mess arose from meeting two new people. Bokuto had insisted on meeting Akaashi at the train station to walk with him back to his apartment. He also brought the shirt with him so that he could change as soon as he got off the train, making sure that Akaashi didn’t have to be in his uncomfortable clothes any longer than necessary. 

Akaashi changed in the bathroom of the train station, pulling Bokuto’s band t-shirt over his head and gently putting his other clothes into his bag. It smelled exactly like his hoodie. The scent floating around him made him feel anxious about the forthcoming events. Walking out of the bathroom, Akaashi met Bokuto’s eyes which lit up as he took in the scene in front of him. Seeing Akaashi in his shirt, the hem tucked into his khakis to combat how large it was, melted Bokuto’s heart.

He couldn’t stop himself from slinking an arm around his waist and pulling Akaashi into him as soon as he got close enough. He pressed a kiss into the side of his head. “You look so good in my shirt, Kaashi,” Bokuto said, lips pressing to his ear. Akaashi wriggles in his arms, the blush growing from his chest to the tips of his ears. He’s convinced that Bokuto can feel how warm they are.  _ It is astonishing how effortless he is,  _ they both think about each other.

The walk back to Bokuto’s apartment is quieter than expected but keeps Akaashi’s anxieties at bay. It definitely helps that Bokuto’s fingers are laced between his the entire way there, only dropping twice to slum his arm over his shoulder instead. 

This was the first time that Akaashi had seen Bokuto’s apartment, his living space,  _ his room _ . It wasn’t just the company that he was feeling nervous for anymore, it was the place he would be occupying as well. His immediate thought walking into the door is  _ wow, this is much cleaner than I thought it would be _ . His next thought is mostly about how nice the apartment is. 

“Bo? Is that you?” a voice called from what Akaashi assumes is the kitchen. 

“Yeah! Where is Tsukki?” Bokuto replied, taking his shoes off and placing them beside the door. Akaashi follows suit. At the question, Tsukishima emerges from the hallway, nodding at Akaashi and Bokuto. “I found Tsukki!”

“Tsukishima,” the blonde greeted Akaashi with another tip of his head, forgoing a handshake or other contact related greeting. 

“Don’t be shy, Tsukki!” Bokuto leaves Akaashi’s side, moving closer to Tsukishima and draping his arm over his shoulder, leaning his head against Tsukishima’s. “You can call him Tsukki.”

“I don’t even want you to call me Tsukki,” Tsukishima deadpanned, causing Bokuto’s face to take on a pout. 

“Nice to meet you, Tsukishima. Akaashi,” Akaashi said, mimicking the tip of his head. 

“Kaaaaashi,” Bokuto’s pout worsened. “Kuroo, tell Akaashi to call Tsukki Tsukki like the rest of us.”

“Or you could all call me Tsukishima,” he replied, narrowing his eyes at Bokuto’s whines. 

Akaashi watched the back and forth between the three men, Bokuto and Kuroo ganging up on Tsukishima as he rolled his eyes and often simply ignored them. It was weird seeing them all in such casual clothing, no girls screaming at them, no sweat dripping from their foreheads and forearms, no instruments in their hands or spotlights shining down on them. Here, in the entrance to their apartment, they were just three friends who loved to poke fun and bicker. 

“Can I get you a beer, Akaashi?” Tsukishima asked, completely ignoring Kuroo and Bokuto’s pleas to show Akaashi their practiced rendition of Wonderwall. He found the three’s relationship dynamics so endearing. 

“That would be great. Thank you, Tsukishima,” Akaashi answered, not paying attention to Kuroo and Bokuto either. This resulted in so much more whining.

The rest of the night went by without a hitch and Akaashi found himself wondering why he was nervous in the first place. How could he be nervous hanging out with Bokuto and his friends? Anyone who recognized Bokuto as their friend couldn’t have been a bad person. He thought that he might not fit in completely with the dynamics that they had already established, but he thinks that Tsukishima appreciated having someone else on his side. It definitely evened the playing fields a bit. It was no longer Bokuto and Kuroo antagonizing Tsukishima who would just  _ tch _ and ignore them. Now, it was Tsukishima and Akaashi using big words to confuse Kuroo and Bokuto into getting much quieter. 

When the conversations started dwindling and they had gone through their case of beer, Tsukishima was the first one to make his way back to his room, leaving Kuroo, Bokuto, and Akaashi in the living room talking about the first time that Bokuto had told Kuroo about Akaashi. 

“He was so smitten from the first time he saw you, I’m telling you,” Kuroo said, finishing off what little he had left of his beer. 

Akaashi felt the warmth on his face from alcohol strengthen with the power of adulation. “So smitten, huh?”

Bokuto was sat next to Kuroo on the adjacent couch. Tsukishima had been taking up the space next to Akaashi before he went up to his room. Right now, the flush taking over most of his face, daring to creep down his neck, Akaashi had never wished to be closer to Bokuto (and that’s saying something). He knew that if his leg was slightly intertwined with Bokuto’s and his arm was resting on his thigh, he would be able to control his heartbeat better. 

“Oh my gosh. He wanted to text you back so badly, constantly asking if it was time to text Akaashi back or not,” Kuroo said. It took Akaashi a few beats to understand what he had meant. It all started making sense to him in little bits. He remembered back to when Bokuto had told him that even when he wasn’t texting him, he wanted to. Akaashi sought out Bokuto’s eye contact in hopes of it clearing things up even further, but Bokuto’s head was hung towards the floor. Now he really wanted to be sat next to him. 

When no one replied to Kuroo’s last comment, he changed the tone of the conversation, singling Akaashi out and asking Bokuto if he minded him stealing Akaashi away for a second to help him clear a few things out of the kitchen. 

“I just wanted to apologize for everything that happened,” Kuroo said as soon as they entered the kitchen, setting the few beer cans down on the counter. He cleared his throat, his tone much more solemn than before, “I thought I was helping, but I didn’t know just how much Bokuto really liked you, and for good reason, obviously. I’ve seen how much his mood has changed since Saturday and it’s thanks to you.” 

Akaashi doesn’t really know how to respond. Though he can make a good attempt at piecing together what happened in the week that Bokuto didn’t text him, he doesn’t know the exact details. Though, he doesn’t really care or need to know. But that’s not the part of Kuroo’s comments that gets him the most. He had never stopped for even a second to think that was contributing in any way to Bokuto’s happy attitude. 

“You’re really good for him, Akaashi, and I can’t thank you enough for sticking through the entire mess I created,” Kuroo said. He pulled Akaashi into a sincere hug. Akaashi was not expecting this in the slightest, nor was he expecting the words that he had just said. Honestly, Akaashi wasn’t bothered to find out exactly what hand Kuroo played in the most strenuous part of their relationship. He was here, apologizing for whatever it was. Kuroo obviously cared about Bokuto and for him to say these things to Akaash, he almost has him in tears. 

“Thank you, Kuroo,” Akaashi said, pulling back from the hug. Akaashi isn’t the only one who is almost in tears. The corners of Kuroo’s eyes are moistened with tears that haven’t broken from their ducts. He wipes them quickly, using the act of putting the beer cans into the trash as cover for the emotional act. 

“Okay, we better get back to Bo before he finds us crying in here,” Kuroo sniffled.

“You are the only one crying,” Akaashi pointed out, a slight smile on his face. Kuroo swatted at Akaashi before meeting Bokuto back out in the living room, Akaashi on his heels. 

“Okay, I’m going to get to bed. It’s getting kinda late, almost 11,” Kuroo noticed, not taking his seat back on the couch. Bokuto stands up to meet both of their levels. “Goodnight, Akaashi, it was great seeing you again. I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” he waved, descending down the hallway and entering another room.

This left Bokuto and Akaashi standing in the quiet living room. Bokuto was feeling the pressure of not knowing whatever Kuroo had talked to him about in the kitchen. He didn’t know how it would affect Akaashi and how he thought of him. All his worries melted away when Akaashi pressed his palm into his and leaned his body on Bokuto’s side. Akaashi decided to clear the air. 

“I don’t know exactly what happened with Kuroo,” his voice was low, not needing to be loud due to the proximity to Bokuto’s ear, “and I don’t really care. I care about you and us and whatever this is right now and that we continue enjoying each other as much as we do now. That’s what I care about.” 

Every anxiety that Akaashi had leading up to tonight, Bokuto had completely put to rest. He was hoping that with these sentences, he could attempt to do the same for Bokuto. It’s quiet for a few moments and Akaashi doesn’t know if he’s helped or made it worse. 

“Do you want to see my room?” The question is innocent enough coming from Bokuto, a simple inquiry about being in his own personal space. Akaashi knew that he should probably get around to making the commute back to his house, but being in Bokuto’s room seemed much more enticing. He nodded. 

Bokuto’s room is simultaneously cleaner and plainer than he anticipated. He noted that Bokuto does, indeed, put his clothes into his hamper and that he wouldn’t even have to do it for him. The more that he looked around the room, though, the more character that it had. He noticed a handful of pictures on the wall and on his dresser, some of him and his bandmates at various ages, some of him and his family, some of him and other people that he doesn’t know the faces of. Akaashi wanted to be in some of them. He wanted to be on his wall with the other people that matter so much to him. 

He noticed the different number of basses hanging on his wall, each of them shining and sparkling, some more worn than others, but all pristine in how they’re taken care of. He ran his fingers over the strings of one of them, flinching at the feeling against his fingertips and flinching again when Bokuto laughed. “Do you want me to teach you how to play a chord?” Bokuto flicked his chin up at the row of basses. 

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-.”

“I want to,” Bokuto interjected, “If you want to.”

Akaashi nodded as Bokuto reached past him, grabbing a bass from the wall and sitting on the bed. He patted the spot next to him and the butterflies in his stomach fluttered. All they were doing was sitting next to each other on the bed, but there was just something about sitting next to Bokuto on  _ his  _ bed where he  _ sleeps _ and  _ does other things _ . He sat down next to Bokuto on the bed. 

Bokuto put the bass on his lap, draping one of his arms over his shoulder to settle the bass down gently. If Akaashi didn’t know better, he’d think that Bokuto was definitely trying to make a move on him. Bokuto pressed a tiny kiss into Akaashi’s jawline before pulling away quickly. “Okay, so, you want to move your fingers here,” Bokuto said, positioning each one of Akaashi’s fingers on different places on the strings. Akaashi nodded along but wasn’t really listening to what Bokuto was saying. He was much more fixated on Bokuto’s fingers precisely moving each of his. 

“And then you have to pluck each of these strings. I use my thumb, pointer, and middle. Then, you can play them broken or block. If you play them broken, you pluck each finger separately with your hand still on the neck, of course, but if you play them blocked, then you pluck them all at the same time. You get it?” Bokuto spoke without taking a breath. His eyes were stuck on Akaashi’s fingers as he plucked the strings in succession and then all at once. When he plucked them all at once, they were slightly out of time, but it was just adorable. 

“Like that?” Akaashi asked, slightly more interested now in the dull sound he had just produced. Without the bass being plugged into its amp, the sound it created wasn’t as resonating as the ones that Bokuto played. Bokuto nodded at Akaashi’s attempts. “Can you show me?” 

Akaashi fully meant for Bokuto to take the bass off of his lap and to have him play something, but instead, Bokuto moved behind Akaashi, wrapping his arms around his body. Each of his fingers felt like an extension of Akaashi’s. They curled with his and moved as his moved. Bokuto’s mouth was right by Akaashi’s ear as he dictated what he was doing, but Akaashi couldn’t pay attention. The only thing he was paying attention to was how close Bokuto was and how he could feel Bokuto’s breath on his neck. 

“Look at you, Kaashi. You’re doing so good,” Bokuto spoke directly into his neck, skimming his teeth over his skin ever so slightly. Akaashi’s shiver ran up the entirety of his spine and Bokuto undoubtedly felt the effects that he had on him first hand. Akaashi loved it when Bokuto played the bass for him, it was his favorite pastime, watching Bokuto play, but right now, he wanted the bass off of his lap so that he could be in Bokuto’s. 

Akaashi turned his head, meeting Bokuto’s lips with the corner of his own. A hand reached up to cup his cheek and turn his head even further so that it wasn’t just the corner of his lips that were pursed against Bokuto’s. Bokuto pulled himself away from Akaashi, despite both of their wants, so that he could put the bass back up on the shelf. “I got it,” Akaashi said, standing up and placing it ever so gently on its stand on the wall. This was almost enough for Bokuto’s heart to swell and burst, watching Akaashi put so much care into hanging the bass up. He almost feels bad for purposefully choosing his least favorite to let Akaashi practice on. 

Akaashi thought about letting Bokuto put the bass away, but if he had let Bokuto put it away, he couldn’t have climbed on top of Bokuto’s lap, straddling him, his knees making small indents into the soft bed on either side of Bokuto’s thighs. Hanging slightly off the bed, Bokuto’s arm braced his lower back as Akaashi rolled his hips ever so slightly. He had never felt safer in his life. 

There was far too much distance between their lips than Akaashi ever wanted. He closed the distance fast. There had been too many soft words against skin and kisses with a teasing amount of tongue for Akaashi to have drawn this out any longer. As soon as their lips touched, Akaashi parted his lips, hoping that Bokuto would do the same so that he could gently push his tongue inside. Bokuto understood practically instantly, welcoming his soft tongue into his mouth and making a soft noise around it. 

Akaashi’s tongue explored every inch of Bokuto’s mouth, gliding over his teeth and the inside of his cheeks and swirling around Bokuto’s tongue which was resting gently in his mouth. After laying dormant for far too long, Bokuto’s tongue started moving against Akaashi’s, neither fighting for dominance, both just swirling and gliding over each other, tasting every part of his mouth. 

Bokuto’s arm tightened around Akaashi’s waist, holding him in place as he lifted his hips to make contact with Akaashi’s thigh. “Fuck,” Bokuto said against Akaashi’s mouth. Akaashi wanted to cry at the lack of Bokuto’s mouth on his, the lack of the taste of Bokuto, if even just for a small moment to moan. Akaashi pushed his lips back onto Bokuto’s a bit rougher this time. He had had a taste (quite literally), and now he couldn’t get enough of it. 

As much as Bokuto loved having Akaashi in his lap, straddling his thighs, everything in him screamed to take control. Tightening his arm around his waist even tighter and using his other hand to support his bottom, in one flawless swoop, Akaashi was on his back, his head pressed into Bokuto’s pillow. It smelled exactly like him. 

Hovering over top of Akaashi, he had a newfound power that he never knew he needed. Akaashi looked absolutely beautiful underneath him, his hair spread out on his pillow, his lips swollen from attacking his own, his chest covered by Bokuto’s shirt heaving up and down trying so hard to get back the oxygen he forwent in exchange for Bokuto’s tongue in his mouth. He needed to tell him how pretty he was and then he needed to show him.

“My Kaashi,” he brought himself closer to Akaashi’s face, rubbing his lips over his jawline, “you look so pretty right now.” When Akaashi shivered and let out an honest-to-god whimper, Bokuto knew how much of a weakness Akaashi had for things like this. So, naturally, he kept going. He wanted to hear him whimper again. 

“Do you know how good you look right now, Kaashi?” If Bokuto’s voice was any lower, it would have been inaudible. Akaashi doesn’t even move in response, focused on Bokuto’s voice and the words that he’s saying, hoping that he’ll say them again. “Hm?” Bokuto hummed, moving his lips against Akaashi’s neck and humming once more. “Do you know how fucking pretty you look lying underneath me?” 

Akaashi whimpers again on instinct. “No,” he responded weakly. This was obviously the wrong answer (or maybe the very, very right answer) because Bokuto immediately started kissing down Akaashi’s neck, sinking his teeth into the skin in between every few kisses. Each sensation on his neck sent heat right into his lower stomach. Bokuto waited for Akaashi to object to the soft bites that were getting progressively harder, but he never does. He pulled away, searching his face for the approval to move on. 

As good as Bokuto thought Akaashi looked underneath him, nothing compared, in Akaashi’s eyes, to how Bokuto looked powering over top of him. His neck was already feeling sore and he swore he could feel various teeth indentations near his collarbones. He couldn’t catch his breath, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. Seeing Bokuto hovering over top of him with a devilish grin on his face and his teeth just slightly exposed behind his lips made him feel weaker somehow, but what he said next almost made him pass out. 

After gnawing at Akaashi’s neck for virtually an entire minute straight while he whimpered underneath him, Bokuto looked him in the eyes and said, “Is this okay?” Akaashi nodded frantically at this sentence, locking his hands behind Bokuto’s neck and pulling him down to him. 

“It’s incredible, yes,” Akaashi consented just wanting Bokuto’s lips and teeth back on his neck. Bokuto did not disappoint him. Bokuto didn’t complain once as he spent a meticulous amount of time abusing Akaashi’s neck, pulling at his shirt to expose his shoulders and collarbones and doing the same to them. 

Each time he would get to a new area of skin, he made sure to place his mouth on it, sucking gently until he was sure that the blood had rushed to the surface leaving such a beautiful reddish-purple bruise. Bokuto made sure to run his tongue over every freshly bruised patch of skin. When he hadn’t gotten a satisfactory reaction from Akaashi in a while, he would drag his teeth over the area.

Akaashi knew how much he would regret letting Bokuto leave marks all over his skin, but right now, it was the most amazing sensation in the world. He pulled Bokuto to his lips, wanting to thank and praise them with his own for leaving such beautiful pieces of art. He missed how good his tongue tasted. He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to how good other parts of Bokuto tasted. For now, he would settle (not really settle) for how good his tongue tasted sliding against his own and how good Bokuto’s lips felt in between his teeth. 

Bokuto’s hand slid down the back of his neck, down the sides of his body, and gripped onto his hips as he pressed his own hips into Akaashi’s. “Fuck,” Akaashi shuddered, so pleasured by the unexpected feeling that he pulled away from his lips. Anything that Bokuto could do to get a verbal response from Akaashi is something that Bokuto knew he needed to continue doing. He rolled his hips again, harder this time, brushing his hardness against Akaashi’s thigh so he knew exactly what he was doing to him. 

“Bo, fuck,” Akaashi hissed, his hips bucking instinctually trying to find the feeling again. “Again, please.” He had only done it twice, but Akaashi was already ready to start resorting to begging. When Bokuto didn’t instantly start moving, he tried to move his own hips to meet Bokuto’s, but his grip held him in place. Bokuto couldn’t take in enough of Akaashi panting softly and asking him so nicely to make him feel good. 

“What, Kaashi?” he teased, his hips hovering just barely above exactly where Akaashi wanted him.

“Please, please, Bo, please, again,” Akaashi wasn’t above begging. His eyes were pleading as much as his mouth. “Please, Bo, please.”

“Louder, Kaashi, tell me.” The grip that Bokuto had on Akaashi’s hip tightened as Akaashi started squirming. Akaashi was already being too loud for Bokuto having 2 roommates in the same hallway. 

“I-,” Akaashi started timidly, but Bokuto didn’t want to hear that he couldn’t and he didn’t want to hear excuses, he just wanted Akaashi to beg louder. 

“Louder,” Bokuto’s voice was much more stern this time, shaking Akaashi to his core. He knew what he wanted and he was going to get it. If he had to destroy his reputation and humility, then he was going to do that. He wanted to feel Bokuto against him again, wanted to feel himself rub against Bokuto again. 

“Please, Bo, please, please, please, again. I need it. Again, Bokuto, please,” Akaashi begged, much louder this time. If Bokuto had asked him to be even louder, Akaashi would have been screaming. 

As soon as Akaashi finished begging, Bokuto rolled his hips down to meet Akaashi’s. When they met, Bokuto could feel how hard Akaashi was against his hip. He targeted this, rubbing up and down until Akaashi was muttering nonsense. He fell into a rhythm that both he and Akaashi were soaking in. It’s not until Bokuto started fumbling with his buckle that he realized how deep he’s gotten into the situation.

Everything in his body was scolding him for even thinking about stopping, but the clock on the wall read just shy of 1 in the morning and Akaashi had work in the morning. He hated himself for what he’s about to do. 

If he went any further, there’s no way that he could have stopped himself. If he’s being honest, he definitely should have stopped earlier before he was rock hard and whimpering, but he would be in actual trouble if he didn’t stop himself right now. He would have never left. 

“Bo, hey,” his voice was steady and his tone had changed as he placed his hands on top of Bokuto’s which stopped immediately. 

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Bokuto immediately started to panic, hurrying to get off of Akaashi. Akaashi wrapped his arms around Bokuto’s neck to stop him from leaving, pressing his forehead against the other’s. 

“I’m okay. I’m great. I’m so fucking great. You’re perfect. Nothing’s wrong except that I really should go,” Akaashi breathed, pouting at his own words. He couldn’t imagine the fit he would have thrown if he was Bokuto right now. 

“Oh,” Bokuto tried his best to hide the disappointment in his voice and it’s killing Akaashi to follow through with leaving, but his presentation is on Friday and that means tomorrow is crucial for actually being at work. 

“I wish I didn’t have to go,” Akaashi cupped Bokuto’s cheek, rubbing his thumb in circles on his cheekbone before kissing him. He has to force himself to keep the kiss short and sweet.

“Stay the night with me.”  _ God, that is so tempting _ . He curses the days of the week and their order and his work schedule for existing. Everything that he needs for work tomorrow is at his place and if he could’ve, he would have completely blown work off and played hooky with Bokuto in bed, but the world evidently hates him. 

“I wish I could, Bo, I really do, but everything I need for my practice presentation tomorrow and to get ready is back at m-.” 

Bokuto interrupted him, “Your presentation! Practice! Tomorrow!” Bokuto jumped out of bed in an instant, Akaashi’s hand left floating above him. “I totally forgot! I’m so sorry!”

Akaashi had forgotten completely that he told Bokuto about his presentation in passing the other day while texting. He didn’t want him to worry about how stressed he was, so he just thought he hadn’t mentioned it. 

“Please don’t apologize, Bokuto, really. I am so glad I came over to hang out with you all and I had the most amazing time tonight and I can’t wait to stop over here after work more often,” Akaashi confessed, nearly giggling at the thought of doing this again. He felt like a teenager.

Bokuto helped Akaashi up from off the soft, comfortable, he could just fall asleep right here, right now, bed. He pulled him into his chest, wrapping his arms around Akaashi’s neck and kissing his forehead. Akaashi winces at the sudden pressure on his sore neck. Bokuto can’t decide whether to laugh, apologize, or blush. He does all three. 

Bokuto insists on walking Akaashi back to the train station, something about Akaashi needing a strong man to make sure he gets there safely despite the station being a 3-minute walk from their apartment complex. At the train station, Bokuto made sure that Akaashi got on the right train, despite not knowing how to get to Akaashi’s house and kissed him quickly before the train approached. He waved at him excessively as the train pulled away. 

Sitting on the train, putting in his earphones, he could feel the warmth on his hip and on his neck from where Bokuto had touched him. His mouth felt empty and his thigh was missing the friction of Bokuto grinding against him. His thigh was not the only thing missing the friction Bokuto created. The train suddenly couldn’t be going fast enough as Bokuto texted Akaashi asking him how he was feeling after leaving so suddenly. 

He called Bokuto as soon as he got home and into bed to talk about  _ everything _ he was thinking about on the way home. 

* * *

On Thursday, Akaashi felt so swamped with work that he couldn’t take the time to commute to meet up with Bokuto. He knew that he probably should have, considering it was the only thing that was sure to calm him down, but he was far too busy to spend x amount of time in transit to see Bokuto.

They remedied this by spending the entire night on FaceTime; Bokuto sitting quietly and watching Akaashi work most of the time. After Wednesday, Akaashi had woken up missing Bokuto and heavily regretting declining his invitation to stay the night with him. Akaashi could have woken up in Bokuto’s bed, cuddled into his side with Bokuto’s arm tucked messily behind his neck, but instead, he woke up very dissatisfied, tired, and pessimistic about the day to come. 

At work, his trial presentation went better than expected, but still had a handful of major flaws. He had to spend the entire night correcting each of them to make sure that everything was prepared for Friday morning. It was definitely not his ideal way of spending the night. He wanted to go and do fun things with Bokuto, not sit at his desk for hours staring at a computer screen.

**Bokuto / 4:56 p.m.** **  
** **DO U want 2 go c a mvie??????**

Akaashi wanted nothing more than to go and sit with Bokuto, holding his hand in a dark movie theatre while not being able to pay attention to what was on the giant screen in front of them. It sounded much more appealing than anything he had to do tonight.

**Sent to Bokuto / 4:56 p.m.** **  
** **Can’t :( have a bunch of stuff to do for my presentation tmrw**

**Sent to Bokuto / 4:57 p.m.** **  
** **Miss u tho.**

Akaashi almost didn’t send the second text, worried about the fact that he had just seen Bokuto less than 24 hours ago. He was incredibly glad that he did because he immediately got a FaceTime call in response. 

Answering it, he saw Bokuto’s face far too close to the camera, “Oya? Akaashi?”

“Hi, Bokuto,” Akaashi set his phone against the lamp on his desk, positioning it to capture his entire upper half in the frame. With his hands-free of the phone, he was able to start setting up his work station, pulling out his laptop from his bag and opening his presentation folder onto his desk. “When are you leaving to see your movie?” Akaashi asked, organizing his reference papers.

“Not going,” Bokuto said, shrugging. Or, at least, Akaashi thought that he shrugged. He couldn’t really see anything with how Bokuto was positioned in the frame, but the camera was moving wildly. 

“No? How come?” 

“I just wanted to go to hang out with you,” Bokuto admitted. The camera had finally stilled to some degree, Bokuto’s forehead and left eye being the only thing in the frame. 

Akaashi laughed at this. “I have work to do, Bo. I wish I could.” It’s all he wanted to do right now.

“I can still stay on FaceTime if it won’t be too distracting for you.” Bokuto’s entire face was in the frame now and despite the entirely unflattering angle, he looked flawless and adorable.

“I’m not going to be that much fun,” Akaashi reasoned. He wouldn’t mind Bokuto sitting with him on his screen while he finished up his presentation. It might be a tiny bit distracting, given what Bokuto looks like right now and that he doesn’t know how to work his phone, obviously.

Bokuto was quiet for a few moments, maybe thinking of a way to agree with Akaashi without being impolite, Akaashi thought. “I just like being around you, I think.”

“You think?” Akaashi snickered, laughing at how easy it was to poke fun at Bokuto.

“That’s not what I meant, Kaashi.” Back on screen, his brows were furrowed downwards and his lips were pursed into a pout. “I meant that I want to spend time with you no matter what. I’ll be quiet, I promise.” 

Akaashi glanced up to his phone, fully taking in the sight of Bokuto on his tiny screen, pouting at him while simultaneously flattering him. He nodded thoughtfully at Bokuto as he returned to his work, reviewing his notes from the practice session today. 

The silence between the two of them, save for their breathing and occasional paper rustle or chair scoot, was comforting. It was peaceful and productive. If Akaashi was having a particularly stressful time completing and fixing specific parts, all he had to do was glance up at his phone to see Bokuto concentrating on something small and random. Sometimes when he glanced up, Bokuto would just be sitting there, staring at the screen with a smile on his face. This made Akaashi turn red. 

“You know you don’t have to stay on FaceTime with me all night, right?” Akaashi had asked, looking up from his laptop for the first time in over an hour. He had felt guilty for keeping his attention for such a long period of time while not actually participating in any conversation or entertaining him in any way. 

“I know that. I just like being in your presence,” Bokuto responded, a dopey smile on his face. It made Akaashi’s heart swell. 

When Akaashi had been working for nearly 3 complete hours, Bokuto asked if he had eaten anything since he got home. Akaashi didn’t verbally answer him, but that was the answer. Bokuto made sure that Akaashi ate before returning to his work, pushing through until it was finished. 

“You have to get to bed, Kaashi. Big day tomorrow,” Bokuto said as Akaashi started cleaning up his desk and preparing his bag for tomorrow. 

“What if I don’t do well?” Akaashi blurted. It had been on his mind for a few hours. Every time he noticed a mistake in his presentation, he wondered about all of the mistakes that were going unseen and how they would affect his presentation tomorrow. 

“Of course you’ll do well, Kaashi. I know you will,” Bokuto’s voice sounded so genuine that Akaashi’s heart just accepted the statement without a second thought. He hummed politely in response. “Hey, Kaashi?” When Akaashi’s eyes met Bokuto’s through the phone, Bokuto continued on, “You don’t have anything else to do or prepare for work after Friday, right?” 

Akaashi shook his head. This was one of his biggest projects of the year. Once he was done with this, he didn’t have to worry about consuming himself with the job for another few weeks, or even months. 

“Can I take you out, then? After your presentation tomorrow night?” 

“Like on a date?” Akaashi teased. 

“Yeah, like a date,” Bokuto sounded so serious, he didn’t miss a beat. It was the first time that they had declared that their meeting was a date. Even on Sunday, when they met for brunch, they didn’t call it a date. This all felt so formal and progressive in their relationship. 

“I would like that a lot,” Akaashi admitted, nervously tucking his hair behind his ear, trying his best to avoid eye contact with his phone. 

“Great! Awesome! I’ll send you the details tomorrow! Wear something nice! Preferably not that turtleneck.” Bokuto was completely ecstatic, his words spilling over like boiling water, skimming over the last part of his sentence. 

“What’s wrong with my turtleneck?” Akaashi asked. He thought that he looked good in his turtleneck, but hearing Bokuto single it out definitely made him feel worse about wearing it. 

“Nothing! It looks unfathomably good on you,” Bokuto started. Akaashi tilted his head to the side in confusion, while Bokuto went on, “Except you can’t see all of my beautiful handiwork.” 

Any section of soft, pale skin that was visible on Akaashi’s face had turned a shade of red. His cheeks burned crimson, his ears were a scarlet glow, his forehead flushed ruby. He suddenly felt very conscious of the dull aching marks on his neck. Even partially hidden in the dark, he knew that Bokuto could see the coloring on his face. He was painfully aware of how warm he was thanks to Bokuto’s comment. 

“I- uh- Okay. I can do that,” Akaashi stammered over his words, his mind too foggy to completely notice what he was agreeing to. Perhaps if Akaashi couldn’t feel the teeth marks every time he moved his upper body, he might have teased Bokuto back. In his mind, various scenarios played where he pulled the neck of his sweater down to expose each indication, dragging his finger along every single one, his mouth hanging open just slightly so that Bokuto could see his tongue and thanking him for how pretty he made him. 

None of that happened. Instead, he (barely knowingly) agreed to forgo covering up the marks that Bokuto had created. 

“Great! I’ll see you tomorrow, Kaashi! Sleep well,” Bokuto smiled sweetly before blowing Akaashi a kiss and hanging up. How was he supposed to sleep soundly after that?

* * *

On Friday, Bokuto took Akaashi out on a real date at a fancy restaurant in the city. It’s way nicer than Akaashi ever allows himself to splurge at, but Bokuto has insisted that he pay for everything in celebration of his successful presentation (and since Akaashi had bought him brunch earlier that week).

His presentation had been exactly that, successful. Akaashi made sure to wear his good turtleneck to hide his abused neck which had only gotten worse over the few days. Even with the lingering thought in his mind of what Bokuto had said to him about his turtleneck, he still crushed his presentation. Bokuto had sent him a million emojis as congratulations, telling him that he was super excited to see him soon. Akaashi was more excited to go on his date than he was to be finished with the project.

Getting ready for said date proved to be difficult. Yukie was staying over a friend’s house and wasn’t around to tame his hair or layer his outfit. Though, a large part of him felt relieved. He’s not sure what he would have done if Yukie saw the state of his neck. 

_ His neck _ . That was proving to be the most challenging part of getting ready. He remembered his agreement to Bokuto last night and how he had stupidly told him that he wouldn’t wear something to cover up his neck. 

After what felt like a million different outfit choices and combinations, Akaashi settled on a compromise. He wasn’t completely exposed with the help of his jacket, but without it, the scooped neck of his fitted tee didn’t leave anything up to the imagination. Looking in the mirror, his jacket in his hand instead of on his body, he had no idea how he could confidently go out so exposed. 

When Bokuto saw Akaashi stepping out of the train, his feet started moving without his brain consciously signaling it. Akaashi had barely stepped onto the platform when Bokuto literally picked him up in his arms and kissed him. 

“Bo, people are staring,” Akaashi said, giggling at the feeling of Bokuto’s lips on him and his arm hugging his waist tightly. 

“I can’t help it, Kaashi. You look ravishing,” Bokuto let Akaashi’s feet touch the ground again, taking a step back to fully take in the scene in front of him, but keeping his hand floating on Akaashi’s waist. 

With all of the attention that Bokuto put on Akaashi and the speed at which he picked him up, Akaashi barely had any time to soak in how good Bokuto looked. He was dressed in a button-up shirt and black slacks, his hair not sitting fluffy on his head or sticking straight up, but was slicked back neatly. This was a huge change in pace from his normal casual outfit. Akaashi couldn’t stop staring. 

“You look astonishing, Bo.” 

Being there with Bokuto, he thought back to looking at himself in the mirror. He had an answer for his past self. There was a way in which Akaashi could feel confident in going out, despite knowing how exposed his marks were. It was Bokuto. As Bokuto was still in the midst of accepting the compliment, Akaashi casually took off his jacket, actively keeping his hands steady as he draped it over his arm neatly. Just because he was feeling confident enough to do it, doesn’t mean that it wasn’t still severely nerve-wracking. 

It only took Bokuto 2 seconds to recognize Akaashi’s neck once he had taken off his jacket. Akaashi had never known Bokuto to respond with silence to anything. There’s a first for everything. Akaashi assumed there would be a witty remark when the shock settled or a knowingly soft touch when Bokuto’s breath regulated, but nothing came. 

He’s not sure if he wasn’t expecting Akaashi to follow through or if seeing him here in person with him was a completely different ballgame than teasing him over the phone, but Bokuto hadn’t said a word since he took off his jacket. They were walking to the restaurant side-by-side, close enough that they would bump into each other every other step, but they were nearly silent. 

Bokuto cleared his throat when they sat down at the restaurant. “How did your presentation go?” 

There was something about Bokuto trying to find the right words to say after being so confident on the phone yesterday night. Was Akaashi really affecting him this badly? He knew that he shouldn’t, but he wanted to push it further. Akaashi couldn’t even focus on how absolutely beautiful the restaurant was, he was only focused on watching Bokuto squirm. He asked for this, anyway.

Akaashi rested his elbow on the table ever so gently, supporting his chin daintily, fully aware of how much of his neck was on display for Bokuto to see. “It went remarkably well, actually,” Akaashi said, continuing on the conversation like normal, but reaching up to his shoulder and tugging slightly at his shirt discreetly. 

Bokuto remembered making every single one of the painfully visible marks on Akaashi’s neck. He remembered how his mouth felt on Akaashi’s soft skin and the resistance each patch gave him as he turned the pale peach into cool colors. His mouth was starting to water. 

The rest of the evening followed suit as Bokuto sat dumb-founded most of the night and Akaashi confidently and proudly showed off for him. It was amazing how much confidence Akaashi had from just being in Bokuto’s presence. 

Then there was a shift.

“Y’know, I’ve been skating around all night, but I just can’t stop thinking about it,” Bokuto started, a surge of conviction in his voice, “Thank you for wearing that tonight, Akaashi.”  _ He didn’t have to be so blunt with it _ . The thing about Akaashi’s confidence in Bokuto’s presence is that he never realized how frail it was. In an instant, the dynamic had shifted. Akaashi was only confident with Bokuto so long as Bokuto allowed him to be. 

He tried to keep up as best as he could, “I wore it just for you.”

“It shows off those beautiful marks so well,” Bokuto’s voice was low compared to the constant chatter of the restaurant. Bokuto’s hand reached out across the table. Akaashi just assumed that the hand would find its way to his hair or his cheek, but instead, it so obviously formed around the side of his neck. He used his thumb to gently, but persistently, tilt his chin upwards, revealing even more of his neck. Akaashi became increasingly aware of how many other people were in the very room that they were in. Before, when Akaashi was doing the teasing, he knew that he had control over who saw him and who didn’t, but right now, Bokuto’s fingertips were on his neck, his palm hovering over top of his bruises and though no one was paying attention to them, it definitely felt like everyone was. He couldn’t keep up.

They got the check fairly quickly after that. Akaashi had thanked Bokuto repeatedly as he paid for their meal that neither of them gave too much attention to, but Bokuto just brushed him off, telling him that it was his pleasure and that Akaashi deserved it. 

As soon as they stepped outside, the fresh night air chilled Akaashi’s exposed skin. He wasn’t thinking about the marks on his neck or how he wanted to tease Bokuto anymore, he just wanted to be warm. He started to put on his jacket but was stopped abruptly. His breath did the same. 

“If I only get to see you for the short walk to the train station, I at least want to see all of you that I can,” Bokuto whispered in Akaashi’s ear. Despite being on the sidewalk outside of the crowded restaurant with no one around them, Bokuto chose this time to quietly whisper to only Akaashi. His eyes shut instinctively. He nodded in submission, desperate to feel Bokuto’s breath against his ear again. “Good, Kaashi.” 

They walked back to the train station, Bokuto’s arm curtained over Akaashi’s shoulder, his fingertips gently tracing the various shapes on his neck. Akaashi has to guide them the entire way there, as Bokuto is not paying any attention to where they’re going or where he’s stepping. His entire focus is on Akaashi’s neck and jawline. 

Reaching the train station was the worst feeling in the world. Even with Akaashi drastically slowing his step, it still wasn’t enough to prolong how quickly they ended up at the platform. The train was approaching and Akaashi contemplated missing this one and waiting for the next so that he didn’t have to unravel himself from Bokuto. 

His words rushed out of his mouth before he even knew what he was saying, “My roommate isn’t home.” Bokuto blinked at him, curiously. The train had just reached the platform and the doors were opening, allowing passengers to deboard. Akaashi had to do better. “I- Um. I have the house to myself if you wanted…” Akaashi’s words trailed off. He sounded like a teenager whose parents were going out of town.  _ Do better _ . “Do you want to come back to my place?”

No one else was getting off of the train which meant that he only had a limited amount of time to get on the train before the doors closed again. Bokuto blinked at him again, a small smirk taking place on his mouth. He didn’t say anything, just took Akaashi’s hand and led him onto the train. 

This had all seemed like such a great idea in the moment, but now Akaashi was worrying about the state that he had left the house in when he left this evening. Was his room clean? Did he do the dishes? Were the shoes stacked neatly next to the door? Was his bathroom a mess? Yukie usually didn’t let the bathroom get particularly messy, but his mind was searching for everything that could have been wrong. 

Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about almost anything on his mental list. As soon as he walked through the door, in the middle of welcoming Bokuto in his small house, Bokuto grabbed Akaashi’s hips and pulled him backwards into him. The first thing that Bokuto said, pressed up against his ear was, “Is this okay?” When Akaashi nodded, Bokuto ensured even further, “If you’re not comfortable with anything, just tell me and I’ll stop, okay?” 

Everything about Bokuto made him feel warm inside. He nodded again, pushing his hips back into Bokuto. 

“Kaashi, you’re such a tease, do you know that?” Bokuto asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. His fingertips dug deep into the hollows of Akaashi’s hip bones. His legs felt so weak that he nearly collapsed. 

He couldn’t move, frozen in bliss and anticipation of what was coming next. “You know that, don’t you, Kaashi? You knew exactly what you were doing all night.” With his hands occupied, strongly gripped onto his hips, he used his chin to tilt Akaashi head to the side. “You were reminding me,” Bokuto licked all the way from Akaashi’s visible shoulder to his ear, “of how good you looked underneath me, how you would wiggle underneath me, the whimpers and noises you made as I pleasured you. You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

Akaashi couldn’t think enough to answer him. His mind was hyperfocused on each syllable that came out of Bokuto’s mouth. He felt a hand leave his hip, snaking its way around his chest and onto his throat. “Answer me, Akaashi.” The lack of his nickname made his breath still. Bokuto’s voice sounded so demanding and Akaashi couldn’t get enough of it. He stayed silent, concentrating on not losing his mind. Bokuto’s hand closed around his neck, fingers pressing lightly against his windpipe as he nibbled on his ear. “Now.”

“Ye- Yes,” Akaashi replied as loudly as he could, nodding as much as Bokuto’s fist would allow him to. Swallowing was no longer an involuntary motion. Akaashi had to think of the liquid traveling down his throat, moving each of the muscles in his esophagus trying to get past the force. 

“Tell me,” Bokuto said, not moving his hand in the slightest. It was getting increasingly more difficult for Akaashi to let air into his lungs. He knew that he had to tell Bokuto what he wanted to hear before he physically couldn’t.

“I was teasing you all night. I did it on purpose, fuck,” Akaashi said on his exhale, his voice weak.

“Tell me that you were a pretty little tease, Kaashi, say it,” Bokuto’s fist around his throat was tightening, but Akaashi couldn’t bring himself to say it. Even in his own house, standing two feet inside with only Bokuto to hear him, he couldn’t speak the words aloud. They made his cheeks feel flush just thinking about it. Bokuto was growing impatient. “Say it, Akaashi. Say ‘I’m your pretty little tease, Koutarou.’” Akaashi’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest when he heard Bokuto telling him to call him by his given name. Though humiliating, it was all too tempting to pass up and his head was feeling light from the lack of air that was getting to it. 

“I’m your pretty little tease, Koutarou.” Akaashi could barely get it out, his voice obstructed by the force on his throat. As soon as Bokuto’s name left his mouth, he could breathe again. He inhaled such a large breath at first that he started to cough. Akaashi wasn’t a stranger to hooking up, but he had never been into anything like this before. Now, he just wanted more. 

Bokuto’s demanding demeanor fell for a second, making sure that Akaashi was okay. “Deep, but steady breaths, baby. If you take too much air in at once, you’re going to give yourself a headache.”  _ What was going to give him a headache was all of these new names that Bokuto was pulling out of his sleeves. _ He followed Bokuto’s instructions, taking in deep, but steady breaths. “Okay to keep going?” Bokuto ensured. 

“Please, Koutarou.” Akaashi doesn’t expect his voice to be that hoarse already, but it added to the desperation that he felt for Bokuto to keep going. Bokuto used his hand on Akaashi’s hip to turn him around, guiding him the entire way. 

“Up.” The sternness in his voice is back and Akaashi wasn’t even aware of how much he missed it. Confused at the one-word command at first, Akaashi stood still until noticing Bokuto’s hands kneading into his ass, pulling upwards. Akaashi jumped up ever so slightly, allowing Bokuto to get a good positioning underneath him, holding him up from his thighs. Akaashi wrapped his legs around Bokuto’s waist. They started moving. 

With Akaashi’s back towards the stairs, he had no option but to trust Bokuto in carrying him. “First door on the left,” Akaashi breathed into Bokuto’s ear, kissing the side of his face. It was disgustingly attractive how effortlessly Bokuto carried Akaashi into his room. He was waiting to be put down once they were in the room or sat down on the bed, but he felt the hard wall press up against his back, his shirt riding up so that his bare skin was against the coolness as soon as they entered the room. Bokuto’s lips were on his, hungry. 

Bokuto had forcefully slid his tongue past the gentle part of Akaashi’s mouth, urging Akaashi to relax his jaw completely allowing him inside. Unlike in Bokuto’s room, Akaashi’s lips ached from the amount of force that Bokuto was using, pressing against his lips so hard that he could feel it in his teeth. Everything that Bokuto was doing was abrupt and blunt and Akaashi just wanted more. 

Bokuto was pressed up against him so hard, forcing his spine against the wall that he dropped his supportive hands causing Akaashi’s legs to tighten around Bokuto’s waist in attempts to keep himself level. With his hands no longer occupied, he was able to grab Akaashi’s face, cupping his cheeks on both sides, stopping his squirming.

It was so difficult for Akaashi to stay still with everything that was happening. He had to focus on so much at one time. He wanted to revel in the feeling of their clashing teeth and aching lips, but he also had to think about keeping himself steady and wrapped around Bokuto and the fact that he was growing hard pressed up against Bokuto’s stomach like that. 

“I could kiss you forever,” Bokuto said without pulling away from his mouth. Akaashi would like that. 

The support returned and Akaashi was pulled away from the wall, spun around, and thrown onto his bed. Looking up at Bokuto towering over him, he barely had time to complain about the lack of contact before his mind was completely infatuated with Bokuto’s fingers as they unbuttoned each button on his shirt. He was fixated at how accurately and meticulously his fingers moved. Even in his trance, Akaashi started to move forward, wanting to help Bokuto, but as soon as he moved, Bokuto stopped. 

“I just want you to stay there and look pretty, baby. Let me look at you. Can you do that?” Bokuto asked. His smile was sweet but laced with dominance. Akaashi shivered at the words pretty and baby back to back. He had no choice but to nod and stay still trying to look as pretty as he could. “Good.”

When his shirt was completely unbuttoned, he closed the gap between them, crawling over Akaashi and placing kisses on his neck. Each of Bokuto’s legs was on either side of Akaashi, their hips pressed against each other. With Bokuto’s chest exposed so close to him, Akaashi felt overwhelmingly hot and overdressed. He wanted his shirt off now. He felt Bokuto playing with the hem, tugging at it and balling it up in his fists. 

“You were such a tease at the restaurant today, showing off all of the marks I left on you,” Bokuto spoke between tracing Akaash’s bruises. “I’m going to leave marks where you can’t show them off so easily. How does that sound?” Bokuto had left his neck, coming back up to eye level with Akaashi. His fingers softly brushed over Akaashi’s throat when Akaashi didn’t answer him, his golden eyes darkening with expectancy. 

“Go- Good. It sounds good,” Akaashi replied. He contemplated not replying so that he could feel Bokuto’s hand squeezing his airway again, but he was desperate to feel where these unseen marks were going to go. 

“What do you say, Kaashi?” Bokuto purred, staring down at him with an evil grin.

“Please. Please, Koutarou.” That’s exactly what Bokuto needed to hear to move forward. With the hem of Akaashi’s t-shirt in between his fingers, he tugged it upwards, exposing Akaashi’s stomach. “Can I take it off, Koutarou, please?” Akaashi asked permission. He wanted so badly to just discard his shirt to the side, but he wanted to make Bokuto happy more than anything. 

Bokuto sat back and nodded for Akaashi to proceed. “Slowly, Kaashi.” Akaashi could feel Bokuto’s eyes burning into him as his fingers fumbled with the bottom of his shirt. Bokuto muttered words of endearment as Akaashi slowly pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. 

Akaashi had felt Bokuto’s skin on his before, obviously. He had felt his hand pressed against his own, he had felt his hand on his neck, he had felt their cheeks touching, and grips on his arm, but nothing compared to the feeling of Bokuto’s toned stomach pressing against his as Bokuto attacked his lips. 

Bokuto’s stomach slid down Akaashi’s body as Bokuto got lower and lower. Akaashi didn’t want him to stop, he prayed that he didn’t stop before getting to his hips, but he stopped just shy of them. He didn’t start slow with small kisses that turned into bites, no. Bokuto immediately began to run his tongue over Akaashi’s lower stomach, forming O’s with his mouth and sucking on his skin. 

Glancing down at Bokuto nearly between his legs, Akaashi could feel himself get fully hard. He was just shy of being exactly where he wanted him to be if he were only a little lower. He wanted him to be a little lower. He couldn’t help himself as he tried to roll his hips upwards to find any friction at all. When Bokuto noticed Akaashi’s hips moving, his hands returned, gripping them still. 

“I’m being so good to you, Kaashi, but you’re just asking for more and more, aren’t you?” Bokuto teased. He started moving away from his lower stomach, dragging his tongue up the middle of his chest. He was going the exact opposite way that Akaashi wants him to be going. He groaned and whimpered in frustration.

“I’m sorry, Koutarou, I’m sorry. Please. I’m sorry,” Akaashi didn’t even know exactly what he’s apologizing for so frantically. His hips never made contact with anything, just rolled instinctually. 

He was expecting Bokuto to talk down to him again, he’s waiting for it, but it doesn’t come. He captured Akaashi’s nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bud and biting it gently. His hips bucked again, trying to find something to make contact against. He let out a low and frustrated groan when he went unmet. The groan was also due in part to Bokuto’s warm mouth suctioned around Akaashi’s nipple, the other being rubbed with Bokuto’s thumb.

Akaashi’s eyes fluttered closed, just focusing on the feeling coming from what Bokuto’s doing. It made him throb. “Koutarou, I-,” Akaashi stopped himself. He didn’t know exactly what he was asking for. All he knew was that he wanted something to touch him, to rub against, to relieve some of the pressure growing in his abdomen. 

“What, Kaashi?” Bokuto asked, only waiting a moment before becoming impatient, “Speak.”

“I need- I- I don’t- Please. I just,” Akaashi was searching for the right words to use to describe exactly what he needed without embarrassing himself. 

“If you don’t tell me what you want, I can’t help you, baby,” Bokuto’s eyes were back up at his level, boring into them and daring him to ask for what he wants as if he’ll even get it when he asks for it. 

“Kou, I can’t- I don’t-,” Akaashi couldn’t think straight, he just wanted Bokuto to touch him. 

Bokuto moved completely away from Akaashi, removing every form of contact that he had on his body. “Speak. Tell me.” Akaashi pushed away every thought about how humiliating it was to ask Bokuto to touch him. He knew what Bokuto wanted to hear. 

Akaashi’s voice was soft and timid as he finally voiced his want, “Please, Kou, please touch me. I’m so hard, Koutarou, please.” As embarrassing as it was coming out of his mouth, his chest instantly felt lighter telling Bokuto what he wanted. 

“Is this what you want, baby?” Bokuto’s hand barely palmed his length through his pants that just kept getting tighter. The touch was almost nonexistent, it’s so light, but Akaashi grunted at the little contact that was made. He tried to move his hips to grind against Bokuto’s hand, but Bokuto was holding him steady in place. “Beg, baby.”

“Please, please, Bokuto, I n-.” Akaashi’s whining and begging were interrupted. 

“Please, who?” 

Akaashi felt himself turning even more red than he was before. “Please, Koutarou. Please, I need you to touch me. I’ll do anything, please. I’m so hard, fuck, Kou, please.”

Akaashi didn’t have to worry about roommates, he was able to beg as loudly as he pleased. When Bokuto didn’t start touching him, he spoke louder, making sure that he could hear every word that he said. “Please, Kou, I’m all yours. I’m all yours. I need you. Please, touch me, please.”

Hearing Akaashi tell him that he needed him, that he was all his, Bokuto finally gave in. His grip eased up on Akaashi’s hip allowing him to thrust up into his hand. To say that he looked pretty was a gross understatement. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” Akaashi was a broken record, skipping over his gratefulness repetitively, unable to form any other thoughts. 

Bokuto’s phone started buzzing. “Leave it,” Bokuto referred to it instantly and made sure Akaashi knew that he was much more important right now than whoever was trying to contact him. He returned his attention to stroking the outline of his length, palming intently, and allowing Akaashi to move freely. 

“More, please, Kou, more,” Akaashi begged. He didn’t care about how pathetic or desperate he sounded right now. The only thing that mattered to him was feeling Bokuto stroking him, his hand grasped around his hard cock. He couldn’t think about anything else. His brain was on auto-pilot. “Please, Koutarou. Please. More.”

Bokuto’s hand moved away from his hard member and Akaashi nearly threw a fit until he realized that he was undoing his belt buckle, unbuttoning his pants, and unzipping his zipper. He shuddered at the pure anticipation of what was about to happen. 

As soon as Bokuto’s phone stopped buzzing, it started buzzing again. There was nearly no time of silence between the two rings. If Akaashi could think straight, he might have urged Bokuto to answer the phone on the second ring, but if Bokuto didn’t continue right now, he would have definitely thrown a fit. “Ignore it,” Bokuto assured Akaashi.

He grabbed the waistband of Akaashi’s pants, tugging at them harshly, pulling them down to thighs, leaving Akaashi’s hard length covered only by his thin boxers. Bokuto’s hand could completely wrap around Akaashi’s cock through the boxers. The fabric between Bokuto’s hand and his skin was infuriating, but he knows that he has to be patient. 

Bokuto was Akaashi so slowly. He’s not sure which was more frustrating, his speed or the fact that his phone was ringing again. Bokuto didn’t mention it this time, instead focusing completely on how hard Akaashi is in his hand. 

“Off, please, Kou,” Akaashi pleaded, looking Bokuto directly in the eyes. 

Bokuto was evidently feeling generous considering his phone wouldn’t stop going off, because he slowly pulled Akaashi’s boxers down, freeing his cock. Akaashi could feel Bokuto’s breath on him and it made him twitch. With Akaashi finally not covered by anything, Bokuto was able to wrap his long fingers around the base, slowly stroking up and down. There was no doubt in Akaashi’s mind that Bokuto was still teasing him. The friction between Bokuto’s dry hand and his cock was almost painful. 

When the phone started ringing again (the 4th fucking ring), Bokuto positioned his head over top of Akaashi’s erection and allowed a glob of spit to land on the head. Akaashi’s breath caught as Bokuto used his thumb to rub spit all over the tip. His face got dangerously close to him as Bokuto pulled his hand away just barely, spitting into his hand. He twisted his fist gently around Akaashi, the warm spit sliding all over his length. 

The moan that tore from Akaashi’s throat mostly masked the next set of buzzing coming from Bokuto’s phone. Bokuto spit into his hand one more time, making it easier for his fist to glide up and down Akaashi’s cock. “Fuck, Kaashi, you sound so pretty.” Bokuto is staring in astonishment at Akaashi’s soft face scrunched up in pure bliss, his mouth hanging open as sound poured out of it. Bokuto started stroking faster, trying to get a louder noise out of him.

By the 6th ring, the buzzing is pulling Akaashi back down to earth, telling him that it is probably important and that Bokuto should definitely answer it (and if it wasn't important he should've smashed it to bits so that they can never be interrupted again). His breathing was heavy and it was not what he thought would be the first words that he said to Bokuto as he was jacking him off, “You should,”  _ pant _ “you should go answer your phone.”

“Kaashi, no, you’re more-,” Bokuto started, but Akaashi just shook his head no. 

“Go, go answer it and tell them to leave us alone,” Akaashi took the small moment to catch his breath again. Bokuto grumbled, standing up and answering his phone. Bokuto was going to owe him when he returned back to between his legs.

“I’m at Akaashi’s! Will you please stop blowing up my phone?”  _ pause _ “Yes, yes I know what tomorrow is.”  _ pause  _ “Yes, I knew that it was-”  _ pause  _ “Shit, no.”  _ pause  _ “I’ll-”  _ pause  _ “But, I’m-.”  _ pause  _ “Yeah, no, I know“  _ pause _ “Okay, okay. Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”  _ pause  _ “Yeah, I’m leaving now.”  _ pause  _ “Yes, Kuroo. Tell Tsukki that I’m sorry. I’ll be back soon.” He hangs up the phone, looking more apologetic than you’ve ever seen another human being. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Kaashi. With the rep coming tomorrow, Tsukki and Kuroo are so worried and anxious, they want me to come back to the apartment now because it’s getting so late,” Bokuto’s eyes tell Akaashi that he might be sadder about this than he is. “Why does this keep happening to us?”

“I don’t know, Bo, but it’s okay. Plus, now we’re even,” Akaashi smirked. He just wanted to make Bokuto feel better about having to leave. He knew how shitty it felt. 

“Next time nothing will stop us okay? I want you so bad, Kaashi,” Bokuto pressed his forehead against Akaashi’s, shutting his eyes for a moment before kissing Akaashi’s lips that were still swollen from how forceful he had been earlier. 

“You’ll have me, okay?” Akaashi brought his hand up underneath Bokuto’s chin, rubbing his skin softly. Bokuto nodded against Akaashi’s hand. 

“With everything for the show tomorrow, I have to be in a lot earlier than normal,” Bokuto explained, reluctantly getting up from the bed. Akaashi pulled his boxers up, cursing how unfair it was that the Gods not only took this away from him but even longer this time. “Are you busy before the show?” Akaashi shook his head, curious to where this was going. “I don’t know if you’d be interested, but you can totally come to our soundcheck if you wanted to hang around for a bit?” Bokuto asked as Akaashi finished pulling up his pants as well. 

Akaashi had never been more interested in anything in his life. “Yes, I would love that. I would absolutely love that. Plus, the longer your good luck charm is there, the better, I suppose, right?” Bokuto laughed, putting his shirt back on and running a hand through his hair trying to fix how messy it had gotten. 

“I’m really sorry that I-,” Bokuto started to apologize again, but Akaashi sits up on his knees, pressing a finger into Bokuto’s lips. 

“No more apologies, okay? Just a promise that next time we’ll both be free and actually able to do something after we tease each other endlessly.” 

Bokuto is quiet, thinking over something in his head for so long that Akaashi’s heart starts to beat faster.  _ Had he said something wrong? Did he read the apology wrong?  _ “You’re incredible, did you know that?” Akaashi flushed at the compliment, covering his face with his hand and averting his eyes. 

Bokuto got back down to Akaashi’s level, turning his head towards him and pressing a kiss into his hidden attempt of a smile. “You are and so is that smile.”

Akaashi couldn’t take this anymore or he was going to do something he regretted like confess to something drastic or make him stay the night. “Thank you,” he paused for enough time to ensure the genuinity of the gratitude, and then, I’ll walk you to the door, yeah?”

In the time that it took them to say goodbye, they probably both could have finished if Akaashi was being honest to nobody but himself, but it wouldn’t have been as drawn out or perfect as Bokuto wanted it to be. Akaashi will just have to live with the sweet 4 and a half minute kiss at the door and the view of Bokuto as he’s walking down the sidewalk from his house and the promise that next time nothing will stop them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	6. ch6 / rose garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! welcome to the S M U T. and also the end of my fic (sans the epilogue)? crazy. so crazy. here I am posting 2 parts at once. how crazy is that? I couldn't HELP IT. this and the previous chapter were supposed to be one part but it was like literally 32k words just between the two of them. but just because I wrote too much doesn't mean YOU shouldn't be able to binge it. 
> 
> i hope you enjoy reading this even like a tiny percent of how much I enjoyed writing it. it's truly been a journey and I love it. 
> 
> anyways I made this and I meant to post it on chapter 4 because that's when everything really basically came together and then I forgot. (( https://imgur.com/a/yvUTgSC ))

Saturday comes much quicker than anticipated. After spending the entire week either busy at work or with Bokuto, the weekend has approached faster than it normally does. With all of these hours that Akaashi has spent talking with and seeing Bokuto, it doesn’t seem to make any sense how he is even more excited to see him again. 

Yukie, despite her grand dismay, is not able to be in attendance at this show. Akaashi would have to brave it all on his own, though, he wasn’t complaining too much about it. It might be lonelier there without accompaniment, but that did mean that he could walk around the city with Bokuto for as long as their hearts desired, sharing as many kisses as humanly possible, without having someone else to look after. Yeah, Akaashi was okay with going alone to this one. 

Plus, Akaashi thinks that, though he won’t admit it, Bokuto is grateful that it will just be Akaashi cheering him on in the crowd. There won’t be any distractions. He can spend his time fully devoted to keeping his eyes on Bokuto and giving him small thumbs up and cheering specifically for him. With this label representative coming to the show, a lot is on the line. If everything goes well and the label is impressed, it can mean a fully produced discography, merch line, and a possible small headlining tour within the next few years. 

Bokuto had explained all of this to Akaashi when they were on FaceTime this morning while Bokuto was getting ready. It was weird seeing this side of Bokuto, the side that woke up at 8 in the morning because his mind was too active to let himself sleep in any later. Bokuto didn’t explicitly tell Akaashi that he was nervous when they were video chatting, but the tone of his voice and the excessive explanations of how big of a deal this was was proof enough for him. 

He must have repeated, “This might be the most important show of my life” at least 5 separate times. Though he was avidly brushing off how it was affecting him, Akaashi knew better; he knew what anxiety looked like, knew what it felt like, so Akaashi did his best to ease as much of it as he could and especially made sure not to add to it. 

Though she wouldn’t be able to go with him, Yukie had promised to stay home long enough to help Akaashi pick out an outfit and style his hair. Following the week that Bokuto and he had shared, he was grateful that she would be there to make him look as good as last time. The gratefulness begins to fade away, however, as Yukie sits on Akaashi’s bed as he’s changing his shirt. 

“Oh. My. God. Akaashi. Keiji,” Yukie’s mouth is agape as soon as Akaashi has taken off his shirt.  _ Shit _ . She stands up abruptly, closing the gap between them very quickly. She doesn’t ask for any level of permission when she reaches her hands out and tilts Akaashi’s head to the side, one hand bracing Akaashi’s shoulder to get a good look at the discoloration on his neck. Yukie’s hands feel much cooler than his neck.

“What the fuck is this,” Yukie asks, inching her face closer to the side of Akaashi’s neck. “Who attacked you? Is this serious? Should I call the cops? Who did this to you?” Each question is sandwiched between stifled laughs and faces that are trying their best to look serious. “I mean, seriously, we could press charges. This is assault, Akaashi.”

Akaashi finally recomposes himself, swatting away Yukie’s hands and tucking his chin against his chest to minimize the view of his marks. “Yukie, no, stop,” Akaashi says, somehow more embarrassed showing his best friend than he was showing off at the restaurant last night. 

“If I don’t get the story, Akaashi, I think I’m just going to have to ask Bokuto about them. Maybe we can try to catch your assaulter together,” Yukie fakes concern, hands on her hips and an exasperated look on her face, “I mean, those marks on your neck…” She trails off before gasping dramatically again and pointing at Akaashi’s hips and stomach. “And stomach too, I guess?!”

“You’re unbelievable, Yukie, I swear,” he shakes his head, throwing himself onto the bed, burying his face in his pillow and remembering the events from last night that took place right where he’s sitting.

“Oh my  _ GOD _ .  _ AKAASHI,  _ I was  _ sitting  _ on your  _ bed _ . Please, please tell me that you cleaned your sheets.”

“Stop insinuating,” Akaashi throws a pillow blindly at Yukie who catches it in her hands, saving the ammunition. 

“Then tell me what happened. If you don’t tell me now, you’re going to be late and no one wants that. I was gone for literally less than 48 hours and so many monumental things happened,” Yukie throws her hands up in the air, pillow dropping from her arm.

“Maybe it’s because you were gone that so many monumental things happened,” Akaashi mutters, finally choosing to let her in on what had happened. Yukie’s face lights up, even despite the fact that Akaashi never answered her about his sheets. 

As Yukie helps Akaashi to get ready, choosing an outfit that, like his outfit from last night, has the ability to conceal and show the marks on his neck, Akaashi offers (mostly) every detail from both Wednesday and Friday’s encounters. Yukie asks plenty of questions that breach so many walls of TMI, but Akaashi answers (nearly) all of them. 

When Yukie is finally done, Akaashi’s hair is looking just as perfect as last Friday, his outfit is looking sharp, and Yukie and Akaashi have finished going every intricate part of Akaashi’s recent sex life. They’re both content. “Have fun!” Yukie called as Akaashi was leaving, “But not too much fun!”

Approaching the venue, seeing a seemingly small building tucked between a restaurant and a bar, in broad daylight felt unsettling to him. Every single other time that he went to see Bokuto’s shows, the chatter and music from behind the doors could be heard from down the street, the bright signs projected a vibrant glow, there were people littered outside of the building either waiting to get in, meeting up with friends, or taking a break from the stuffy inside. In broad daylight, however, the club felt virtually abandoned. Even the surrounding businesses had people in them or around them, but the club looked empty. Akaashi found himself wondering whether or not he was at the right place. After double-checking the text message Bokuto had sent him, he pushed the door open.

He’s not really sure what he expected, perhaps some level of barricade between him and the inside of the eerily scarce venue, but he pushes right in without any protest. There is no one at the bar, tending and making drinks or swarming around it. There is no one tucked into the back corners of the room or pushed completely against the stage. There are a handful of people on the floor, another handful of people setting up on stage with Crowlster, and a last handful of people controlling a console near the back of the room. 

“Hey, this is a closed rehearsal,” someone from the console calls out at the sound of the door closing behind Akaashi. He’s not exactly sure how to respond. His palms get clammy thinking about how exactly to say  _ hey, yeah, I’m uh- Bokuto’s- uh???? friend?????  _

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to stammer out Bokuto and his lack of current labels because Bokuto practically jumps off the stage when he notices who has just come through the door. “Kaashi! No, that’s okay! Kaashi’s here!” 

Akaashi’s heart threatens to stop at his excitement and also at the way he haphazardly scoots off of the stage to meet him by the door. He offers a small wave, but that’s not enough for Bokuto who skips over to Akaashi and beams at him, leaving a small kiss on his nose. “Hi, Bokuto,” he says, very aware of the number of people in the room that know him and the number of people that don’t know him but are just there to do a job.

“You’re just in time! We’re starting in,” Bokuto pauses for a minute, looking back at his bandmates and stagehands with a cocked head. 

“We’re starting in 5, Bo, get back here,” Kuroo answers for him, “Hey, Akaashi.” Akaashi waves to the guitarist on stage and then directs a wave to Tsukishima who doesn’t even notice him as he’s focusing on his drums.

Everyone in the room feels a bit more tense than normal. The atmosphere isn’t negative in any way, but Akaashi can tell that everyone, yes, Bokuto included, was slightly on edge. Akaashi knew how important this performance was for almost everyone here. He did his best to keep Bokuto on track and make himself go unnoticed. 

“I’ll be right here. You go do your thing,” Akaashi reasons, nodding towards the stage. He squeezes Bokuto’s hand and kisses his cheek before nudging him away. Akaashi doesn’t know if he’s just feeling particularly full of himself today or what, but Bokuto seems more relaxed walking back onto the stage. He pulls himself up onto the stage effortlessly and gets back into position.

Akaashi scans the people in the venue for anyone he might know in the slightest. He recognizes the kid on the floor that he had met on that terrible, terrible Saturday; Kenma was his name, he learned later from Bokuto. He supposes that he has a great bushel of thanks to give Kenma at an appropriate time. Whatever he had said to Bokuto completely changed their relationship.

He also notices another timid looking guy to the right of the stage, standing near, but not close to Kenma. He looks completely out of place, hugging his side and shifting his gaze to various points in the room. His face is sprinkled with freckles and his eyes keep flickering up to the blonde on stage. Akaashi finds a bizarre amount of comfort in the people watching that he’s picked up on in recent years. It passes time and it allows him to figure out who exactly he would feel comfortable standing near instead of awkwardly by himself. He slowly makes his way over to the other awkwardly standing people, figuring he’d fit right in.

Kenma’s attention is lasered onto his handheld console, his fingers moving so quickly and his eyes half-lidded and seemingly bored with the rapid movements on the screen. The only thing that pulls Akaashi out of his very impolite stare is the sound of microphone feedback. “Sorry,” Kuroo puts a hand up apologetically.

On stage, Bokuto looks completely focused, something that Akaashi does not see often from him. He looks like he knows exactly what he’s talking about, directing everyone around the stage and messing with the various equipment scattered around. It’s entrancing. The people around the console begin to talk, pressing buttons and sliding switches meticulously on their board, “Okay, Kuroo-san, can you play for a minute?” and then “Thank you, Tsukishima-san, go ahead.” and then “Thank you, Bokuto-san, you’re up.”

With Bokuto playing random notes and chords on his bass, Akaashi can really take in everything that Bokuto is right now. Bokuto is wearing a cardigan, his hair is limp, and with all the lights on, his face seems softer. Again, and Akaashi cannot reiterate this enough, Bokuto is wearing a  _ cardigan _ . He can feel his heart-melting inside of his chest and turning into a soupy liquid. If anyone wasn’t convinced that Akaashi was head over heels for Bokuto, one look at Akaashi’s heart eyes would persuade them. 

He swears that Bokuto is showing off as he plays complicated chords and riffs that Akaashi cannot even fathom attempting. Considering that both Tsukishima and Kuroo are looking at Bokuto with confused looks and raised eyebrows, Akaashi would bet that his theory was correct. 

“Let’s do some mic tests,” the woman behind the console says, “Just talk at normal levels.”

As they’re all saying random things into the microphones, Kuroo singing into his, Kenma makes a small comment. “Bokuto’s showing off with his tests so Kuroo had to too, I guess.” Akaashi isn’t sure if it’s directed towards him or the only other person in the vicinity, but he laughs anyway. 

“Do you think Tsukki will show off too?” the freckled guy asks. 

Kenma actually looks up from his game to see if he’s being serious. They both snicker to themselves as Kenma returns to his game. Akaashi feels more relaxed now, hearing others talking and laughing in the solemn room. 

When the sound technicians are done monitoring the band’s inputs and outputs, they give the band a thumbs up so that they can start rehearsal. The moment that they start playing, Akaashi notices that the music seems louder without the numerous people in the crowd to absorb it. He’s watching Bokuto play the songs that he’s come to know so well. He’s playing the music and the two Bokutos that Akaashi thought existed merge into one. There was no coffee shop Bokuto™ or bassist Bokuto™ or even texting Bokuto™, there was just Bokuto, amazing, caring, funny, beautiful Bokuto. He couldn’t stop staring and he wasn’t going to apologize for it. 

Finishing their last song, the workers behind the console are fidgeting to make last-minute adjustments, Kenma has not looked up since he and the freckled boy shared a laugh, and the freckled boy is staring with the same contentment as Akaashi. Bokuto is the first one off of the stage, rushing over to Akaashi as soon as he gets the okay from his other band members and workers in the venue. 

As well as the rehearsal went, it’s evident why the air was feeling lighter for everyone. “Kaashi! Thank you for coming. I hope I didn’t bore you,” Bokuto says. 

“You did fantastic, Bo,” Akaashi replies, not being able to stop himself from the genuine smile that takes over his face or both of his hands that cup Bokuto’s cheek and pull him into a kiss. He can hear Kenma shuffle away as Akaashi pulls Bokuto into him harder. 

“That was so good, Tsukki!” he hears the freckled guy’s voice get closer to the stage. When he pulls away from the kiss, his eyes catch Tsukishima sitting on the side of the stage with the dark-haired boy resting his hands on Tsukishima’s knees. 

“It was fine,” Tsukishima replies monotonously, shrugging his shoulder slightly. 

“No! Tsukki,” he whines, “it was so good. The best one yet.”

“You say that every time, Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima scoffs, rolling his eyes and leaning back, placing both of his arms next to his hips, but making sure not to move his legs in fear of disrupting the freckled one. 

“I mean it,” Yamaguchi replies, leaning forward to keep the same space between them when Tsukishima leans backward but pressing forwards a little bit more even when he stops. “Tsukki, I mean it.”

Akaashi can’t stop staring at seeing this other side of Tsukishima. The side that doesn’t push whoever this is off of him and tell him to stop calling him Tsukki. The side that, instead, presses a kiss into the freckles on his cheeks and whispers a  _ “thank you”  _ into them that’s barely audible. Or, maybe it’s not a different side of Tsukishima, but just a part of Tsukishima that isn’t around very often, especially in front of heaps of other people. He wants to keep creepily watching this scene unfold as Yamaguchi blushes and leans onto Tsukishima’s lap, resting his head on top of his folded arms, as the blonde smooths his hair. 

Bokuto follows Akaashi’s line of sight and laughs. He expected that amount of confusion and bewilderment from someone who hadn’t been around Tsukishima and Yamaguchi before. “They’re definitely something,” Bokuto says to Akaashi, nodding towards the two who have no regard for the outside world at this moment. 

“Definitely,” Akaashi remarks, finally pulling his eyes away and settling back onto Bokuto’s face. “You know what else is definitely something?” Akaashi pauses, “Your hair.” He places his hand in Bokuto’s hair and gently rubs his fingers against Bokuto’s scalp. 

“What about it?” Bokuto tries to pout but is too happy with Akaashi’s hand in his hair to even fake one. 

“I just don’t get it. It looks different almost every time I see you. It’s so flat right now,” Akaashi says, continuing to play with Bokuto’s strands of white and black. “I think it reacts to your mood. Is that how it works?” Bokuto laughs and he is convinced that he can see his hair laugh with him. 

The two of them only get another few minutes together before Kuroo is calling Tsukishima and Bokuto back to go over a few things before they go on. “I’m sorry you came all this way so early just to wait even more,” Bokuto apologizes. 

“Don’t be. Get back there, okay? I’ll see you after the show okay?” Akaashi places his hand on Bokuto’s bicep, squeezing firmly and thanking every God he knows. 

“You’ll be right in the front tonight, right?” The nerves in Bokuto’s tone are back with a vengeance. Akaashi wants to kiss them all away. 

“Of course, Koutarou.” It slips from Akaashi’s mouth before he even knows it left. After last night, Akaashi just became so accustomed to saying it over and over again. It felt right coming out of his mouth. Bokuto’s smile grows at his name coming out of Akaashi’s mouth. 

“Okay. Good. Thank you, Kaashi.” Bokuto brushes his lips against Akaashi’s for a moment before Kuroo is calling for him again, leaving Akaashi unsatisfied by the tingling still on his lips. 

* * *

The best part about being in the venue until the show starts is watching the progression of the club and the state of the people inside of it. Bokuto had told Akaashi to put whatever drinks that he had on his tab, repeating over and over how bad he felt for making Akaashi stand around while he had other things to prepare for. Akaashi only had 1 or 2 beers the entire night. He was only focused on supporting Bokuto and being there as his  _ “good luck charm” _ today. 

It would have been much easier to view the state of the room and the progression of the crowd from the back of the room, but ever since people started entering, Akaashi was stationed directly in front of the stage. Even still, he noticed people incoming at various times of the night, the people that they came with, how they progressively got drunker, and louder until he noticed how packed the show was. The amount of people inside of the venue feels like it’s against some sort of fire code. 

Typically, he would spend his time shooting texts back and forth with Bokuto, but he’s busy now. The time seems to move particularly slowly while he’s trying to think of things to occupy his mind. He wonders what he even did before he met Bokuto. By the time that 10 o’clock is rolling around, Akaashi’s feet are hurting and his head is starting to pound, but that doesn’t stop Akaashi’s wide eyes and excited smile as the time for them to come on stage is getting closer. 

He’s not exactly sure how Crowlster will debut on stage this time. At this point, Akaashi feels like he’s seen every entrance that they have up their sleeve. Personally, he’s a fan of the darkness with a little bit of time playing in the dark. 

As if on cue, the room lights begin to dim. The room gets dark very quickly and the volume of the room is nearly unbearable. Akaashi is one of the biggest contributors to the noise. In almost every other show that Akaashi had been to, he would take everything in, listening to the volume of the crowd, trying to decipher separate screams, but he was there to support Bokuto. That’s what he was going to do. 

The anticipation was greatly enhanced in the dark. He’s not sure exactly how long the lights are down, but he’s sure that it felt much longer in the dark. His voice was already starting to feel hoarse, though, he knows that last night definitely didn’t set him up for success. The sound that starts playing from the speakers is low, a slow start that just keeps increasing. Being pressed up against the stage, the speakers were right next to him, rumbling so loudly that his thoughts felt jumbled. He was never going to be in the back of the room of a show again. 

When the song starts to pick up, the lights begin to turn back on in time with the tempo. As the music got faster and louder, the lights got brighter and harsher until the music stopped completely. Crowlster stood on stage, under the scrutiny of the ruthless lights, still. The cheers of the crowd erupted, Akaashi screaming at the top of his lungs at the men on stage. 

In unison, they started to play again. Any ounce of nervousness that the band members still harbored was not shining through in any regard. The only thing that was being projected from the band was pure confidence, talent, and passion. Every song that they played seemed to be the best one yet, defying any expectation that had been set by the previous song. 

He was watching Bokuto absolutely flourish in his element. Out of every single time he has ever seen him play the bass, it was now that he could see the true commitment and fondness that he had for the instrument. This wasn’t just a job or a hobby, it was his entire life. Watching him step around the stage, already a sweating mess, out of breath from the insane movements of his fingers and hands, thrashing his head to the beat, his hair completely out of control, but somehow making him feel more confident, Akaashi might have thought he was the one. 

There were girls pressed up against every side of him, pushing forward, trying so hard to get even an inch closer to the stage, but Akaashi was completely unbothered. He hears a few girls to the right of him scream Bokuto’s name, jumping up and down, stepping on his foot, and nearly crying when they think that Bokuto makes eye contact with them. Bokuto does not make eye contact with them. Bokuto is completely focused on his bass and the music that he’s producing. In the small moments that he’s looking up in the crowd, it’s to see that Akaashi is right in front of him, a smile unhidden on his face. Akaashi is cheering louder than anyone else in the place and that was saying something. 

Everything about this show feels different. Each element is flawless, technically sound, but somehow maintaining their stylistic integrity. Bokuto in particular (though he might be a tinch biased) was thriving. Kuroo and Tsukishima were both on their A-game, performing perfectly, but they still couldn’t keep up with the energy and expertise Bokuto was exuding. 

The concentration on Bokuto’s face is astonishing. He has never seen him this infatuated with something (other than the marks that he made all over his neck… maybe). He couldn’t take his eyes off of how remarkable Bokuto looked. Bokuto’s eyes flicker up as he starts his solo, the moment of this particular song that he knows far too well. He doesn’t miss a beat, he doesn’t stutter over a note, he doesn’t lag by a millisecond, everything that he does is indisputably perfection. All the while, he makes eye contact with Akaashi, gently biting down on his lip as sweat threatens to drip down his forehead and off his chin. Akaashi can hear the girls that were chanting Bokuto’s name and their incessant cries, but Akaashi knows that it’s all for him. He knows that he’s what Bokuto wants.

The show didn’t seem to last nearly long enough. Any song that Crowlster played, Akaashi hoped wouldn’t be the last, but at one point in the night, Akaashi knew that if they continued on like this for even another 20 minutes, they might collapse on stage. Kuroo, Tsukishima, and Bokuto were all playing with heaving chests and shoulders; Kuroo suffered especially. His voice was breathy and still sounded as beautiful as it normally does, but the amount of control that he had to have had in simply keeping his voice steady is impressive. The only breaks that they got were the few moments they took in between songs to take very quick sips of water. 

The energy of the crowd was electric as Crowlster announced their last song, hoping that everyone had a great time and enjoyed themselves. Akaashi certainly did and he knows, without a doubt, that everyone else did too, including the label representative that was somewhere here. 

Their last song goes on for nearly 10 minutes; Akaashi checked on his watch. During the entire length of the song, the energy never dips or waivers only climbs higher and higher until the very last note. Akaashi is out of breath just from watching them. The last note signifies the end of the song, the venue going silent for just a second before the crowd roars. Without the music blaring in his ears and the bass shaking his core, he feels empty. When the song ends, Crowlster stands on stage for a few minutes, soaking in the continuous applause, practically keeled over trying to take air into their lungs. They bow to the crowd before exiting off of the stage. With both the stage empty and the music no longer playing, Akaashi feels himself coming down from his high.

As everyone around him is either leaving or dispersing into other parts of the club, he doesn’t get a text telling him that Bokuto would be out in a little while, asking him to stick around. Rather, soon after the show ends, Bokuto texts Akaashi to meet him at the right side of the stage.  **THeirs a door W A sign tht says EMPLOYEES ONLY meet me there :))** is what he had texted him. 

Akaashi’s eyes search the right side of the stage for the door and the easiest path there through all of the congested people. It takes him longer than he wants it to to make his way to the door. He can’t get to Bokuto quickly enough. Knocking twice on the door, his heart is racing as the door begins to open. He almost launches himself at whoever is opening the door, basically assuming that whoever it is would be Bokuto. It makes sense that whoever it is would be Bokuto, seeing as that’s who told him to meet him at the door. He’s shifting his weight back and forth when the door swings open, revealing Tsukishima who is equally as surprised. 

“Akaashi,” Tsukishima states. It’s not a greeting, but literally a statement of who is at the door. “You are…,” he pauses, contemplating whether or not he should go on. He does. “not Yamaguchi.”

Akaashi shakes his head. “Bokuto told me to meet him here, so, I… tried to.”

“Right, yea, sorry,” he steps to the side, allowing Akaashi to slip by him. “Yams texted me that he was coming backstage, so I was just waiting for him,” Tsukishima says, excusing himself. 

“Thanks for letting me in,” Akaashi nods before starting to move. Walking forward, he hears Yamaguchi’s voice from the door. “Tsukki!!!! That was- I can’t even describe it! I have no words! That-.” His voice is stopped by the blonde’s lips on his. 

Akaashi has no idea where he’s going. He, despite his anxiety screaming at him to find Bokuto himself, turns around. If he weren’t so absolutely desperate to see Bokuto after that performance, he might have just wandered around blindly until running into Bokuto. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are pressed against each other sweetly, the taller bending over to reach the shorter’s lips. 

Akaashi feels like he’s intruding on such a special moment, but he selfishly just wants his own special moment with Bokuto. “I have no idea where I’m going,” Akaashi admits to Tsukishima, quietly, trying not to scare him or Yamaguchi. 

Tsukishima pulls away from Yamaguchi, eyes slightly wide at the presence of someone else. He clears his throat. “Bokuto should be right up the stairs,” Tsukishima points, his face obviously turning red at Akaashi seeing him interact with his boyfriend, “If he’s not, I have no idea where he got lost to.”

“Thanks, Tsukishima,” Akaashi says, beginning to walk away again, but this time he knows where he’s going. Reaching the top of the shallow stairs, he hears Yamaguchi giggling. “You’re red, Tsukki.” 

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.” Then more giggling, which stops very suddenly. 

* * *

Akaashi knows that he’s getting close to Bokuto when he hears his laugh, boisterous and unapologetic. Rounding a corner, he sees 3 girls surrounding the black and white haired bassist who is just trying to put away his instrument. He feels like he should be panged with jealousy or hatred when he sees this scene, but he’s still fueled by the eye contact that Bokuto had made with him during his solo. They’re tucking their hair behind their ears excessively, fidgeting with the bottoms of their skirts, and reaching out to touch Bokuto’s arms which were still sheened with sweat. 

“Bo, you were soooo great tonight,” the one with the longest hair says. She is also the one that has the most contact with his arm. Akaashi can see her fingers contracting around his forearm. From where he’s standing, he can’t see any of their faces fully, only their side profile as they all nod in agreement with the first girl. 

Even from the side, Akaashi can tell how polite Bokuto is trying to be as he thanks them, taking a half of a step backward. “Thank you. Thanks,” he’s nodding at them with a grin on his face, his eyes flickering past them. 

“No, really, you were so good. I can’t even believe it. It’s probably how you got these strong arms, right? All that playing?” she moves her hands up his forearm and onto his bicep, her fingers still clenched around the muscle. Her eyelashes flutter as she moves her head and plays with the ends of her hair.

Akaashi truly thinks that he should be feeling angry, insecure, or jealous in any small quantity, but he can’t be. The only jealousy he feels is that her hand is on Bokuto’s arm instead of his. These girls were absolutely beautiful and, sure, there were tiny hints of comparisons between himself and them, but he watched Bokuto respond to them and knew that it was nothing like how he talks to him or reacts to him or looks at him.

He steps forward into Bokuto’s periphery and Bokuto turns his head to look at him immediately. “Hi, sorry, am I interrupting?” Akaashi asks. He knows that he’s not interrupting. 

A different girl who is not touching Bokuto’s arm speaks up before Bokuto can, “We’ll just be a minute with Bo!” She giggles and looks at Akaashi expectantly, figuring that he’ll give them space.

“Yeah! I just wanted to talk about how-,” the long-haired girl starts talking again. She still has not moved her hands.

“Right, yeah. Sorry, we’ll have to find time to pick this conversation up…,” Bokuto trails off, thinking tentatively, “sometime, maybe.” Bokuto’s attention is completely on Akaashi now, despite the 3 girls grimacing in front of him. 

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I can come back later,” Akaashi points with his thumb behind him. There is no way that he actually leaves Bokuto here while these 3 girls throw themselves at him, but his comment is worth the reaction that he gets from all other parties. The girls look thankful, eyes wide, bright smiles on their faces, bowing slightly at Akaashi’s  _ “kindness” _ . He assumes that Bokuto will look disappointed or pouty, but when his gaze meets Bokuto’s, there’s something else in his eyes. Authority? Control? Impatience? Akaashi can’t pinpoint it exactly, but it ignites the butterflies in his stomach. 

“Okay! Yeah! We’ll only be a few more minutes!” she giggles as they turn their focus completely back to Bokuto, but Bokuto has no mind for them. His eyes are locked on Akaashi’s as Akaashi begins to take a small step backward. All at once, Bokuto has, as politely as he could, shaken the girls off of his arms, and has reached out in front of him, his fingers closing around whichever of Akaashi’s wrists is closest to him. Bokuto’s hand is so large, his fingers are so long, that they almost completely enclose Akaashi’s wrist. Akaashi swallows, feeling the indents that Bokuto is creating on his wrist and remembering the same pressure on his neck. 

“Kuroo is probably in the other room,” Bokuto says to the girls behind him, despite not turning around. “They were just leaving to try to find him,” Bokuto explains to Akaashi as if they weren’t even there. His eyes are deadlocked on Akaashi. If the girls don’t leave now, they evidently cannot read a room. 

“Um. We-,” one of the girls starts. 

“Down the hall in one of the rooms,” Bokuto says with the same tone of voice, truly trying to get them to leave.

“Oh- Okay. Thank you,” another one says. Akaashi can hear them shuffle away, but he can’t see them. If he takes his eyes off of Bokuto’s, he feels like his heart might explode. He still feels brave, a certain surge of confidence from seeing Bokuto’s show. 

“Those girls were cute, Bokuto,” Akaashi tests the waters. Bokuto is silent, not even blinking, so he braves on, “I can still go. Y’know, if you wanted to chase them down, you might still be able to catch up with them.”

Bokuto typically laughed when Akaashi joked with him like this. He would throw his head back and let a laugh escape from his chest or he would look down at the ground with his hands on his hips and try to stifle one. He’s maybe even expecting Bokuto to tease back or tell him to shut up as he laughs it off. Akaashi was waiting for anything of the sort to happen. 

Instead, Bokuto looked up at Akaashi, his eyes darkened similarly to how they were darkened last night and a smirk fell upon his lips, the right corner of his mouth pulling up to expose a small number of white teeth. His grip still hadn’t left his wrist from before the ladies had left (not that Akaashi was complaining). He snakes his free hand to grasp the back of Akaashi’s neck, using it as stability to pull him closer. Bokuto was so close to him that he could feel his hot breath on his own lips and inside of his mouth, sneaking through the part in his lips. If Akaashi moved his head 3 inches forwards, his lips would be on Bokuto’s. That’s all he wanted right now. 

But then he became increasingly aware of the fact that they were in a wide-open space. He thinks of the exit that the girls made through the attached hallway and the stairs that he used to get to the room and the various doors and rooms attached to its walls. At any second, someone could come in and see them here, in the middle of the room, so close that they probably wouldn’t even look like they were apart. Akaashi shudders, causing Bokuto to exhale sharply, laughing at how easy it is to get Akaashi riled up like this. He pushes further. He wants to feel Akaashi shudder again, starting at the nape of his neck where his hand is and traveling all the way down to the floor. 

“I don’t want those girls,” he pauses. “I want you, Keiji,” Bokuto says, breathy and slowly. He gets exactly what he wants, as he often does when it comes to Akaashi. This time, he follows the tremble down Akaashi’s body, sliding his hand from his neck, down his backbone and lower spine, stopping at his ass, gently gripping his fingers into the muscle. He feels the quiver follow his palm, no longer chasing it when he takes a handful of his ass, releasing Akaashi’s wrist with his other hand, using it to do the same on the other side.

Akaashi’s face is burning. He can’t stop thinking about everyone that could walk through here to see this scene. Bokuto doesn’t seem to pay any mind to the possibilities. As Akaashi was coming off of his show-induced high, Bokuto was still riding his. He knew exactly how good he did and every time that someone else told him, it only fueled it more. He wants to hear Akaashi say it. He knows that Akaashi loved his performance and he wanted to hear him fawning over him. 

“How did I do, Kaashi?” Bokuto asks, his fingers still digging into Akaashi as he whispers into his ear. 

“Bo, we should,” Akaashi starts, but he doesn’t know where he’s going with it. He doesn’t know what they should do in the slightest. Akaashi trails off as Bokuto drags his teeth down Akaashi’s jawline. His breath is making his neck feel even warmer. 

“What? Do you want to go somewhere more private?” Bokuto practically purrs. Akaashi can’t see the cocky smirk on his face, but he knows that it’s there. He doesn’t even know what he’s doing as his head instinctually nods. That’s all he wants right now is to be alone with Bokuto. “Not until you tell me. I want to know, Kaashi. How did I do?” 

He feels Bokuto’s teeth descending to the lowest part of his visible skin, causing Akaashi to take a sharp inhale of air into his lungs. “You were incredible, Bo. You looked so good on stage. You sounded perfect. It was flawless.” It doesn’t feel like praise as the words leave his mouth. It feels like begging. 

“Who sounded flawless, baby?” Bokuto breathes against his skin. 

“Y- You sounded flawless, Koutarou,” Akaashi responds, his head fogging with need. 

Bokuto’s hand is back on Akaashi’s wrist, his grip tighter than last time as he leads Akaashi to a door, pushing inside and pulling Akaashi with him. It’s dark inside of the tiny room, but Akaashi already feels cramped. Turning on the dim and flickering light, he sees the walls littered with shelving units filled with various supplies. He doesn’t have much time to protest before Bokuto’s lips are on his, commanding and open as Bokuto’s tongue is shoved inside his mouth. He’s instantly gratified at the taste of Bokuto’s tongue and the spit being swished into his mouth and sliding down his throat as Bokuto braces his hands on either side of it, gently massaging his jawline. 

The feeling of Bokuto’s thumbs remorselessly rubbing against his jaw is sending involuntary shivers throughout his entire body and gentle moans to slip into Bokuto’s mouth as he unforgivingly continues exploring Akaashi’s mouth with his tongue. Bokuto’s other fingers are resting so gently on the sides of his neck, the calloused pads and rough fingernails gently dragging overtop of his skin. This is a substantial change of pace from the last time Bokuto was touching his neck. 

He calls back to the sensation of Bokuto’s fist clenched around his throat, the lack of air getting from his lungs to his head, and how it heightened every other sense in his body, how without the oxygen he could feel Bokuto’s breath so vividly and truly revel in the taste of his tongue. He wants to experience it again.

Akaashi moves his own hand to Bokuto’s wrist. His grip is much lighter than Bokuto’s ever was, but Akaashi knows who’s in control here. He knows who gets to demand and who gets to suggest. He gently nudges Bokuto’s hand to the center of his neck, Bokuto’s thumb sliding over his chin to the other side of his throat, whimpering as he pushes his neck out ever so slightly, praying that Bokuto understands. 

Bokuto pulls his lips away from Akaashi, a line of spit connecting them until it drips onto Bokuto’s arm. “What is this, baby?” His eyes flick down to Akaashi’s weak grip on Bokuto and the placement of his hand. The closet is void of words, just pacing breaths as Bokuto continues, “Do you want something, Kaashi?” He tilts his head to the side, eyes faking concern, and eyebrows knit together in question. He doesn’t dare to move his fingers from where they rest on Akaashi’s neck, his thumb in the perfect place to cut off the air. He massages harsh circles into his throat, feeling Akaashi’s pulse quicken as he does so.

Akaashi’s thoughts escape him as he fixates on this motion and the continual pressure that’s being added. Bokuto’s mouth is right against his ear, making sure that he can hear him clearly. “Use your words, Akaashi.” The lack of endearing names snaps him out of his trance. 

For the past few days, when Akaashi has found himself in this situation time and time again, he knows that he has to push down all of the humiliation he feels in admitting these thoughts aloud. “I want you to choke me, Koutarou,” he mumbles. His voice is quiet and evidently embarrassed. 

“Louder, Akaashi,” Bokuto demands, his thumb digging harder into the side of his neck. Akaashi starts noticing how difficult it is to breathe solely from the pressure that Bokuto’s thumb is creating. He’s craving it now. 

It takes more effort than before to speak. “Please, Koutarou, I want you to choke me. I want to feel your fingers wrapped around my throat, please.” The begging makes Akaashi feel even more desperate than before. Akaashi’s hand, which was gently resting on Bokuto’s wrist before, is now pulling Bokuto’s fist tighter around his neck. “Please, Kou,” Akaashi begs, his eyes boring into Bokuto’s, his bottom lip nearly quivering as he chews on it to stop himself from squirming. 

Slowly, one by one, Bokuto’s fingers close down onto Akaashi’s throat. “You can tell me to stop at any time, Kaashi,” Bokuto teases. Their eyes are locked together as Bokuto tightens his fist, watching Akaashi’s lips open wider trying to get in more air. Akaashi doesn’t want him to stop. He can’t beg, his airway being compressed by Bokuto’s rough fingers, so he tries to plead with his eyes and push his throat forward into Bokuto’s palm. His breathing is getting more difficult and he just wants to taste Bokuto’s tongue again.

Bokuto’s mouth is back on his, quite literally almost suffocating him with his tongue, but Akaashi doesn’t mind. With Bokuto’s mouth on his, he’s lacking any air that he could have inhaled through his mouth. His head feels light, but Bokuto’s tongue inside of his mouth feels so good. When Akaashi’s knees start bending, Bokuto holds him up, bracing his waist, but not moving the hand from his throat. When he doesn’t think he can take anymore, Bokuto squeezes even tighter for just a moment before letting go completely. Akaashi remembers what Bokuto had said last time. 

_ “Deep, but steady breaths, baby. If you take too much air in at once, you’re going to give yourself a headache.”  _ He wants to inhale deep, but steady breaths, following Bokuto’s instructions from last night, but Bokuto’s mouth is still on his, the seal so tight between their lips that air can’t seep in at all. His lungs are on fire, but everything about this moment feels so right that he doesn’t want to stop. 

It’s Bokuto that breaks the kiss, avidly aware of how long Akaashi has gone without getting a good breath. As soon as he breaks away, he forces Akaashi’s eyes on his. “Deep, steady breaths, yeah?” Akaashi nods, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. Bokuto peppers kisses onto the places that his fingertips just were until Akaashi’s breath is close to normal again, taking that as a signal to attack his lips once again.

“Don’t you have a dressing room?” Akaashi breaks the kiss. There is nothing more that Akaashi wants than to finally take him, but the space is cramped and less than ideal to have sex in. Caught up in the moment before, he had very little time to think about where he was or that he’s almost pushed up against a shelf filled with paper towels. 

“Too far. I want you now,” Bokuto says, sloppily pressing his lips back onto Akaashi’s for a moment before moving down to his neck. Akaashi will make do in the tiny space pressed up against various supplies, then. “My marks look like they’re fading, baby.” Akaashi whimpers at the thought of his neck lacking the discoloration Bokuto had given him. 

He knows that Yukie will give him shit yet again when he gets home and it’ll be harder to cover up at work this week, but he wants to feel the suction of Bokuto’s lips around his neck and collar bones. He needs to feel it. Bokuto doesn’t spend nearly as much meticulous time on Akaashi’s neck as he had in the past, but feeling Bokuto’s tongue on his neck as he murmurs into it praises about how pretty Akaashi is, has his eyes closed in bliss as he feels himself getting harder. Bokuto works his focus into taking off Akaashi’s shirt and pressing kisses down his chest as he lowers himself onto the ground. Akaashi’s mind is wandering, and he lets it, seeing Bokuto on his knees in front of him. His hair is still soaked with sweat from the show, resulting in his once styled hair laying down on his head, messy. Akaashi reaches out and runs his fingers through it, gripping softly in anticipation.

Bokuto brushes his lips against the hardness in Akaashi’s jeans, his breath stuttering at the light contact. His eyes don’t break contact from Akaashi’s as he sticks his tongue out, running it along the entire length covered by the fabric. Akaashi’s hips react instinctively, trying to make contact again, but Bokuto’s fingers sink into his hip bones, restricting his movement almost completely. 

“Do you want something, Kaashi?” Bokuto’s eyelashes flutter with innocence despite his face being completely pressed up against him. 

Akaashi doesn’t have the mental capacity for morals in his current headspace. He can’t think about how embarrassing or vulgar the next words are to come out of his mouth. “Please, Kou,” his voice is urgent and low, “I need… I need to feel your mouth on my cock, please. Please, Koutarou.”

Bokuto grunts in contentment, noticing that Akaashi offers his begs and pleads quicker than before, happy that he’s growing needy and more impatient as Bokuto teases on. “If you don’t behave, keep your hips still, when I move my hands, I’m going to tease you for hours and then walk out of here, leaving you so hard that it hurts, and you’ll let me tease you for hours even though you know I’m not going to let you finish, because you’re so desperate for any contact that I’m giving you, right, baby?” Akaashi nods, helplessly. He knows that Bokuto is right, that he would let Bokuto tease him for hours even if he knew how unsatisfied he would be without release, but he knows how good Bo will be to him if he just listens to him. 

“Words.” The one-word command makes Akaashi shamelessly grow even harder. 

“Yes, Koutarou,” Akaashi breathes, his eyes closing slightly, ready to feel Bokuto’s hands move from his hips.

“Yes, Koutarou, what?” Bokuto’s mouth is still pressed up against Akaashi’s cock through his jeans. Each word that he speaks sends vibrations and hot breaths through the fabric, but it’s not enough. He’s already begged. He did it without question. He just wants to be inside of his mouth. 

“Yes, Koutarou, I won’t move. I promise, Kou, please. I won’t move. I’ll be good, please,” Akaashi begs. He thinks that it’s enough until he opens his eyes and sees Bokuto looking up at him expectantly. “Please, I’ll do anything. I would let you tease me for hours even if you didn’t let me come. I need to feel you, Kou, please.”

Satisfied with his answer, Bokuto releases his grasp on Akaashi’s hips, instead using his hands to unbuckle, unbutton, and unzip Akaashi’s jeans. He’s moving far too slowly for Akaashi’s liking, but his hips stay still. He knows that if he were to rock forward, he could brush up against Bokuto’s pretty lips. The instant gratification isn’t worth the extensive amount of time that Bokuto would spend not touching him. 

His fingers tuck under the elastic waistband of his boxers, pulling gently, bringing the jeans down with it until they’re at Akaashi’s ankles. With the fabric gone, his bare skin is exposed to the cool air. Akaashi makes a note to take a mental picture of the scene unraveling in front of him. Bokuto is on his knees no longer making eye contact with Akaashi, but instead inching closer and closer to his unconstricted cock. 

Akaashi knows better than to move his hips into Bokuto or to guide Bokuto’s head, so he settles for an encouraging soft grip of his hair before simply resting his hand there. There is only one thing that will work for getting Bokuto to go faster, to stop teasing him as much. “Please, Kou,” he whimpers, “Please. I just want to feel you.” It’s unprompted, but Bokuto still soaks it in, humming softly in satisfaction.

The small part of Bokuto’s lips rubs against the head. The sensation almost causes Akaashi to buck his hips, a small moan escaping him. Bokuto pulls away slightly, looking up at Akaashi and smirking before wetting his lips and brushing them against the head once again. All of the teasings evidently worked, because just these small bits of contact are driving Akaashi crazy. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his life. 

“Bo,” Akaashi whines, greedy for more, “please.” He drags out his please, hoping that this time will convince him. “Koutarou, I need you.”

Bokuto slides his hands up the back of Akaashi’s thighs, fingers pressing into the sides of his ass as he positions himself, capturing Akaashi’s head in his mouth, rolling his tongue around its entirety and licking the precome from the slit. Akaashi doesn’t think to savor this moment, as he imagines it will go on until he starts to beg again, but Bokuto surprises him.

His jaw opens farther as he pulls Akaashi into his mouth, not stopping until his nose is pressed up against his stomach for just a moment, making sure that his tongue is active as every inch enters him. Akaashi lets out a deep groan as he feels his head touch the back of Bokuto’s throat. He pulls away, catching his breath for a beat before placing his hand on the base and stroking whatever isn’t in his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he bobs his head on his cock. 

“Fuck, Kou,” Akaashi breathes, placing his hand back into Bokuto’s hair, gripping softly not as encouragement this time, but as stability, a means of grounding himself. The deeper that he gets in Bokuto’s throat, the harder it is for him to do anything other than make small noises to express his pleasure.

Bokuto releases his mouth from his cock, instantly replacing it with his hand, stroking slowly while catching his breath and making eye contact with Akaashi. His strokes get slower and slower before he asks, “Keiji, how was my performance tonight?” These aren’t the words that Akaashi was expecting. He cocks his head, confused at the timing. The strokes get even slower as he looks up at Akaashi, waiting for him to speak. “How did I do?” Bokuto had already asked him this question, but Akaashi was going to do or say anything to get Bokuto to move faster. 

Bokuto captures Akaashi’s cock back into his mouth. He concentrates on every little movement that he makes. He wants Akaashi to work for it, wants him to stutter over every thought and word, wants to hear him struggle over his praises. When Akaashi starts to speak, he takes him all the way into his throat, a loud moan ripping from Akaashi’s mouth in place of the words that were intended. 

The cool air has once again replaced the feeling of Bokuto’s warm mouth, but this time his hand isn’t there stroking his throbbing shaft for some sort of compensation. Bokuto is just staring up at him, his mouth still hovering, open, around his cock. He moves his head back only to say, “Tell me, Keiji.” before deepthroating him in one motion. 

Bokuto might, for the first time, be asking too much of Akaashi. The way that his mouth feels enclosed around him is driving him to the brink of insanity. Right now, all he can is focus on each place of contact that Bokuto’s tongue has on his cock, the back of his tongue massaging the length. The copious amount of spit accumulating inside of his mouth causes his cock to slide in and out of Bokuto’s lips effortlessly, and when he watches some of the spit drool out of the corner of Bokuto’s mouth and onto the floor, precome replenishes the lost fluids. 

When he feels the absence of Bokuto’s hands on his sides, pulling him deeper into his mouth, Akaashi instinctually follows the motions, thrusting his hips at a slow pace and muttering obscurities. He’s so enthralled with how good Bokuto is making him feel, that he barely notices Bokuto stripping his pants off and stroking his own hard length, using the hand that was once positioned at the slippery base of Akaashi’s cock to slick his own. 

Bokuto pulls his head away from Akaashi, looking up at him with swollen lips glossed with a mix of precome and saliva. Akaashi’s cock twitches at how gorgeous he looks. “Tell me, Keiji,” Bokuto says before taking his dick back into his mouth, the warmth and wetness making Akaashi inhaling sharply. “Focus or I’ll stop.” His voice is growing impatient.

“Y- You,” Akaashi takes a deep breath as Bokuto’s tongue does something particularly mesmerizing, “you did so fucking good, Koutarou. I-,” another deep breath and low groan, “I’ve never seen anything so fucking perfect tha- than- than you on stage tonight. You’re flawless. You’re-  _ fuck _ \- you’re inimitable. God,  _ fuck _ , if I co- could watch you forever, I would’ve. You did so good, Kou.”

Akaashi hasn’t talked this much in so long. The praise kept flooding out of his mouth as he focused only on his thoughts and not how hard Bokuto tried to stop him from speaking. “I know I did,” Bokuto says, returning to his feet and spitting into his hand, stroking himself as he looked at how disheveled Akaashi looked. 

Akaashi knows how loud he was, or rather, he doesn’t know exactly how loud he was, because his volume was the last thing he was paying attention to, but he has an idea. Despite this, Bokuto steps closer to Akaashi, so close that he can feel how hard Bokuto has gotten. He leans into Akaashi’s ear, “I want to be inside of you, Keiji.”

The breath coupled with the tone and the intent causes Akaashi’s eyelids to flutter closed as a small sound of bliss leaves his throat, a desperate  _ “please” _ along with it. Bokuto steps back, his facial expression changing into concern before speaking again. 

“Fuck, Kaashi. I don’t have a condom or lube. I mean, I wasn’t really planning on-,” Bokuto says, a worry spreading over his eyebrows. 

Akaashi shakes his head vigorously, closing the gap between Bokuto and himself and pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips. “Kou, I’m clean, I trust you, and I need you inside of me so badly. I’ve been teased endlessly this week and if you don’t fuck me, I’m going to lose my mind.”

Bokuto’s eyes widen before a familiar darkness falls over them again as Bokuto grabs Akaashi’s hips, spinning him around and bending him over a small table in the corner of the room. “I’m going to have to work extra hard to stretch open your pretty hole, then, aren’t I, baby?”

The mood has completely flipped back around in seconds, Akaashi now feeling just as needy and desperate, if not more so. He nods as he replies, “Yes, Kou. Thank you, Kou.” Akaashi can’t see Bokuto at all, his face is pressed up against the table. Every move that Bokuto makes, Akaashi is completely surprised by. He feels a hand trail from his neck to his lower back cupping one cheek and following suit with the other almost instantly, massaging into them.

Spreading them apart, Akaashi can feel his hole opening ever so slightly. He’s anticipating a single finger being inserted; he braces himself for it, but instead, the familiar, warm, wet feeling of Bokuto’s tongue circles the ring. All of the breath leaves Akaashi’s lungs at once as he moans out, “Koutarou, fuck.” 

The same level of expertise from his mind-blowing blowjob is translated to right now. Bokuto’s tongue moves so methodically around the outside of his puckered hole before the tip enters inside of him ever so slightly. “Kou!  _ Fuck _ ,” Akaashi moans, the latter word being dragged out as Bokuto tongue fucks Akaashi’s tight hole. 

He can only picture what’s going on behind him, how beautiful Bokuto has to look with his face pressed up against him, and his tongue flickering so meticulously. He only feels one of his hands holding him open, so he assumes that the other is down stroking his own cock. He assumes right.

When he no longer feels his tongue on his hole, he starts whining, but he knows that there are better things to come. Akaashi turns his head to look back at Bokuto for a moment right as he lets a drop of spit fall right between his spread cheeks. His cock leaks as the spit leaves Bokuto’s mouth. Akaashi keeps his eyes locked on Bokuto’s as he slowly inserts a finger, pushing past the resistance of his tight ring. “Koutarou, that feels so good, fuck.” Bokuto smirks at the praise, sliding his finger in and out, picking up speed as Akaashi’s moans get louder and more frequent. 

“Bo-,” he stops himself. Akaashi knows how to beg for Bokuto by now. “Koutarou, please, another finger, please. Fill me up, Kou.” It works. The pleads, the whining, the name, the vulgarity, the combination works so well as Bokuto inserts his middle finger into Akaashi. Bokuto leans back, trying to look at as much of the scene unfolding in front of him as he can. 

The second finger gives even more resistance than the first one. The stretch burns, but is hidden by pleasure as Bokuto begins to pump his fingers in and out of Akaashi faster, a glob of spit landing perfectly on his hole, adding to the slickness. When he can feel Akaashi relax against him, he starts opening his fingers wider, scissoring him open. Akaashi’s insides look so good that for the first time tonight, he wishes time would move faster. He wants to be inside of Akaashi right now, even though stretching Akaashi out coaxes whines and moans from him that he’s never heard before. The whimpers aren’t new, but the way that his hips push back against his fingers when Bokuto gets near his prostate is absolutely beautiful. 

“Are you ready for another finger, baby?” Bokuto coos, his two fingers straining from being so far apart on the last opening. 

“Please, Kou, yes,” Akaashi tries to push back onto his fingers.

Another splash of warm spit lands on Bokuto’s fingers inside of Akaashi as he presses a third finger against the ring of muscle. The hand on his own cock is getting dry. He leans forwards, pressing it in between Akaashi’s thighs as he opens his palm near Akaashi’s mouth. “Spit.” Akaashi listens, promptly spitting into Bokuto’s hand which almost returns to his own length when he sees how hard and throbbing Akaashi is. 

As much as Bokuto wants to jerk himself as he watches his fingers fuck Akaashi’s tight hole, he wants to hear Akaashi wail in pleasure with no pause to catch his breath. He wraps his hand around Akaashi who gasps in response. He wasn’t expecting Bokuto’s hand to begin stroking him with his own spit. He feels himself flush. 

With a third finger inside of him stretching him out and Bokuto’s hand milking his cock, Akaashi’s throat feels sore from the constant noise that’s leaving it. Sometimes he lets a word slip out, muttering Bokuto’s name or just  _ fuck _ , but most of the noise is just guttural moans and whimpers. It’s exactly what Bokuto wanted, not that Akaashi ever gives him any less.

“Fuck, you’re being so good for me, aren’t you, baby?” Bokuto purrs, “I’m so proud of you. You look so good, you know that? So pretty.” 

“Mhm,” falls out of Akaashi’s mouth surrounded by other affirmations. Bokuto doesn’t need to see Akaashi’s face to know that it is nothing but pure happiness and pleasure. Bokuto is finger fucking Akaashi’s asshole faster as he continues to praise him, getting so caught up in the moment that he doesn’t even ask if Akaashi is ready for a fourth, last finger to finally get him ready to take Bokuto’s girth. He feels how relaxed the ring of muscle is and how far apart his fingers can spread. He knows that Akaashi’s hole is ready, but it still takes Akaashi by surprise when he simultaneously feels the warm liquid and another finger enter him. 

“Fuck, Bo, fuck, fuck, that’s so good.” It’s the longest string of actual words that’s come out of him since Bokuto has been stroking his cock as well. This only encourages Bokuto to go harder, faster, relentlessly stroking and fucking his fingers into his hole. His long fingers just teasing his prostate without actually hitting it.  _ Not yet, _ Bokuto thinks. He wants his cock to be the first thing to massage into it. 

Akaashi can’t help his body from moving backward onto Bokuto’s fingers and forwards into Bokuto’s hands. Any way that his body moves, Bokuto is there to make him feel so good. The burn of the stretch is underlying, constantly there, but is heavily overpowered by every mind-blowing sensation on his skin and inside of him. 

When he pulls his fingers out of him, his asshole still slightly agape, Akaashi’s moans stop and are replaced with exhales of disappointment and whimpers. “Kou-,” he whines.

“Do you want me inside of you, Kaashi?” Bokuto’s palm is flat against his tailbone as he uses the other hand to line himself up with Akaashi’s hole, the head rubbing against it before Akaashi answers. Bokuto spits down onto himself, using his palm to lubricate his cock as much as he can.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, Kou, yes,” Akaashi sounds like he’s almost in tears just thinking about it. He doesn’t stop repeating himself even as Bokuto moves his hips forwards, his head pressing inside. For the first time tonight, Bokuto is speechless. His mind is filled only with thoughts of how tight Akaashi is and how hard he’s falling for him.

“Fuck, is this okay? Are you okay?” Bokuto asks, making sure before he goes deeper. Akaashi is drawing in a breath as he nods. Even having been stretched with 4 of Bokuto’s fingers, Bokuto is just so thick. Bokuto waits for a second for Akaashi to exhale to push inside of him further, wrapping his hand around to stroke his cock, distracting him from the even wider stretch. 

Each inch that goes deeper into Akaashi makes Bokuto grunt. The stretch feels like it’s done nothing at all, though they both know that it’s done a lot. Akaashi is so tight, his warm walls squeezing Bokuto’s cock as it slowly gets deeper inside. Bokuto can feel himself rub against his prostate just briefly before stopping himself from getting any deeper.

“I’m just going to stay here while you adjust, baby, okay?” Bokuto reaches forwards, gently massaging the back of his head. They’re both panting as they still. Akaashi feels so full. He just wants Bokuto to start moving again. He moves his hips back against Bokuto until he’s fully pressed up against him, a pleasured sob escaping him.

“Fuck, Kaashi,” Bokuto digs his fingernails into his hips, holding on to him, his breath getting away from him. He only hesitates for a second before moving Akaashi’s hip, sliding him back and forth on his cock. He watches his own length disappear into Akaashi and appear again, his hole puckering around him. The sight is enough to make himself throb so hard that Akaashi can feel it. 

Akaashi moves his hips with Bokuto’s hands, following his lead, but helping the motion. Bokuto can feel his head rub against Akaashi’s prostates as his moans stutter and his body convulses just slightly. “What was that, Kaashi?” Bokuto teases, hitting it again and getting the same reaction. 

“Again, again, again, again.” Akaashi is a broken record, begging for Bokuto’s cock to make contact with it again. “Again, please, Kou.”

Bokuto lifts Akaashi’s leg up onto the table, resting it there softly as he caresses it, positioning himself above Akaashi even more so. From this angle, he can get even deeper inside of him; more of his length can massage into his prostate. Bokuto snaps his hips into Akaashi, feeling the swelling bulb of tissues against his cock. Akaashi is so grateful for the table underneath him because his legs feel like jelly as the wave of pleasure spreads throughout his entire body. 

He relentlessly pounds into Akaashi, his hand moving back to stroke his cock through all of the insane pleasure that he’s experiencing. Akaashi tries to moan, to make any noise at all to convey to Bokuto how  _ good _ he’s feeling right now, but nothing comes out. His jaw is hanging open and tears are pricking at his eyes, but he can’t make a sound. 

Bokuto, on the other hand, can’t stop himself from making constant noises, grunts, groans, moans, growls, purrs as he unforgivingly thrusts himself in and out of Akaashi. This only adds to the absolute ecstasy that Akaashi is finding himself in. “K- Kouta- Koutarou, I-,” Akaashi announces, panting breathily between each syllable. Bokuto immediately pulls out of him, leaving Akaashi feeling unbelievably empty. Without Bokuto fucking into him, his breath returns to his chest and he can form a coherent thought. “Please, Kou, I was so close, please.”

“No, not yet,” Bokuto’s chest is heaving, his head lightly tipping upwards as sweat drips from his forehead, “Not yet, Kaashi, okay? Soon.” Bokuto pauses, trying to regain himself. “I want to see you. I want to look at your pretty face while I fuck you.” He rests his hands on Akaashi’s hips, turning him around to make eye contact with him and kissing him. This kiss is different from any of the others so far; it’s sweet and soft. There’s no tongues fighting for dominance or space, no lack of air, no rough hands, only soft touches on Akaashi’s cheeks and caring lips pursing against each other. 

Bokuto picks Akaashi up, gently setting him down on the table, but staying stationed in between his legs, holding them open and up. Bokuto presses his forehead against Akaashi’s and kisses him gently before slicking his own cock with spit and lining himself up. He doesn’t push into him just yet, just looks at how pretty Akaashi looks with his legs spread open, completely vulnerable, and already looking completely fucked. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Akaashi blushes before Bokuto pushes into him in one motion. It takes Akaashi’s breath away in the best way possible. With Akaashi in front of him, Bokuto can see every single muscle on Akaashi’s face move and change as he takes him completely. His eyes flutter closed at the feeling of fullness. 

Bokuto gets more pleasure from seeing Akaashi’s facial expressions reacting to his cock deep inside him than he does from Akaashi’s warm walls tightening around him. There’s just something about watching the direct effect that Bokuto has on him in real-time. He reaches down to move a piece of hair out of Akaashi’s face before beginning to move, slowly at first, just to see Akaashi’s desperation as he begs for Bokuto to give him more. 

He slowly picks up the pace, fucking him shallowly to avoid his prostate until Bokuto is ready to overload him with pleasure. “D- deeper, Koutarou, please.” Akaashi’s eyes are pleading. Bokuto can’t hold back any longer. He can’t resist giving Akaashi everything that he wants and more. He starts moving his hips faster, watching Akaashi’s asshole swallow his entire cock repeatedly. 

“Smile for me, Keiji,” Bokuto says, staring down at him. He knows that Akaashi’s hands are far too busy turning white-knuckled onto the lip of the table to cover his face. He looks surprised at first, but the mixture of the pleasure and pure bliss that he’s feeling floats to the surface as he lets a smile spread across his face. Bokuto’s heart soars as he caresses his cheek. “Fuck, you’re pretty.”

Akaashi’s pleas turn into gratitude as Bokuto gives him exactly what he asks for, his cock repetitively hitting his swollen prostate. Every time that Bokuto rubs against it, Akaashi’s  _ “thank yous” _ get fewer, more far between, softer, desperate, and inaudible. Akaashi is melting in Bokuto’s arms underneath him and Bokuto has never seen anything better. Reaching down, he brings attention back to Akaashi’s hard member, bobbing as Bokuto harshly fucks him. 

“I- I’m close…,” Akaashi takes a large breath, “already, Kou, fuck.” 

Bokuto can feel himself getting closer too as Akaashi tightens around him. As amazing as every sensation is right now, Bokuto knows that he can make Akaashi feel even better. He wraps one arm around Akaashi’s back and one hand underneath his lower back, picking him up, keeping him fully enclosed around him. Akaashi is startled at the sudden movement, his eyes snapping open just in time to see Bokuto press him up against the door. It’s reminiscent of last night. Akaashi can feel his spine pressing into the wood behind him as Bokuto pushes against him to keep him up, letting him slide down the door until Bokuto decides that he was in an adequate position. 

Despite Bokuto not moving inside of him, he still feels overwhelmingly, comfortingly full. As soon as Bokuto gets him into a position that he’s happy with resting against the door, he starts moving. His pace instantly picks back up to the speed he was at when he was fucking Akaashi into the table, but it doesn’t stop increasing. Bokuto shows Akaashi no mercy as he abuses his tight hole and prostate. 

He’s relentlessly fucking up into him. Before, the amount of pressure caused Akaashi to lack the ability to make a single noise, but they’ve passed that point. Akaashi is screaming out with pleasured pleas, his throat hurting from the strain on his vocal cords and the lingering feeling of Bokuto’s fist. His hands feel antsy like he has to grab onto something, anything. His fingernails drag long scratches down Bokuto’s shoulder blade. Bokuto can barely feel the pain from the fresh marks, being so deep into Akaashi, his tight insides milking his cock. 

Even as his hips begin to stutter, moving out of the perfect rhythm that he was in before, he doesn’t stop fucking into him. They’re pressed together so closely that Akaashi’s cock is feeling the friction between both of their stomachs as Bokuto thrusts forwards and backward. Bokuto feels how hard he is against him, sees how much precome is leaking from the slit, and lets a glob of spit drop onto it, lubricating it. It takes a very little amount of time after this before Akaashi digs his fingernails into Bokuto’s back, “I’m coming, I’m coming, Bo, fuck, I-.”

“Come for me, Kaashi. Come, baby. You deserve it. Fuck, come all over your stomach, baby. Let me see it,” Bokuto coaxes, aiming perfectly for his prostate as he pushes Akaashi over the edge, strings of white cum landing on Akaashi’s stomach. Watching Akaashi’s face scrunches in ecstasy, the feeling of his rim tightening around his cock, his throaty groan as he came made Bokuto’s cock throb and leak inside of him.

Akaashi can barely catch his breath as he makes eye contact with Bokuto, his eyes tired, but still wanting more. “Come inside me, Koutarou, please.” That’s all it takes. He couldn’t stop himself if he wanted to. He grips onto Akaashi’s hip and back as he feels his balls tighten. His cock pulses inside of Akaashi as his thrusts become more sporadic, releasing deep inside of Akaashi. A string of every nickname he’s ever given Akaashi flows out of his mouth as he has the best orgasm he’s ever had. Even after he’s finished coming, he’s still sliding his cock in and out of him, pushing his cum deeper inside of him, his cock still pulsing and throbbing. The thrusts slow as his heartbeat returns back to normal. 

His entire body is covered in sweat, even more so than before. His chest rises and falls dramatically and he’s so thankful that adrenaline exists or Akaashi would have been dropped onto the floor. He walks over to the table, resting Akaashi down on it, still inside of him, but allowing most of Akaashi’s weight to be supported by the table instead of himself. 

Both of them are silent for a few minutes, taking the time to gather their sanity, thoughts, and breath, 3 things that they definitely forwent in the past however long that was. It felt simultaneously like 10 hours and 10 minutes. When the room isn’t filled with the sounds of their intake and exhale of excessive breaths and their heartbeats have returned to a reasonable number, Bokuto finally pulls out of Akaashi. The sudden lack of sensation for both of them makes them feel incomplete. 

Bokuto walks over to a shelf, grabbing the aforementioned paper towels and giving a bunched up handful to Akaashi. He tears off another piece for himself, gently wiping the cum off of Akaashi’s stomach for him. The overconfidence in Bokuto is fading quickly as he feels so deeply infatuated with Akaashi cleaning himself. He interrupts him after throwing away his dirtied paper towels, tilting his head up and kissing him, holding his lips against Akaashi’s. 

“That was as good for you as it was for me, right?” Bokuto breaks the silence of the small room. His normally loud voice sounds almost imperceptible compared to the noises that occupied the room a few minutes ago. Part of the question is a flirty, stupid joke, but another small part is just Bokuto making sure that Akaashi was happy. The overconfidence has definitely faded away. There was no more  _ “I’m Bokuto. Give me what I want. I’m the best.” _ Now, it was only  _ “I’m Bokuto. I want to give Akaashi anything that he wants in the entire world. He’s the best.” _

Akaashi laughs, breathlessly. “Better, even, I think.”

Bokuto furrows his eyebrows because there’s no way that’s true. That’s impossible. “That’s impossible.”

“No one has ever made me feel that good, Koutarou, so I think it’s possible,” Akaashi starts picking up his pieces of clothing that were littered around the floor of the closet. 

As if it were a competition, Bokuto follows, “Yeah, but that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had, so. I don’t think so.” Akaashi just laughs, his mind still foggy from the high that he was riding. They’re putting their clothes back on together, mostly in silence with a few scattered giggles when they make eye contact. The silence in the room is comfortable.

When they’re both fully dressed, Akaashi sits back onto the table, staring at Bokuto who is still fidgeting with his jeans. “Thank you,” Akaashi says. It surprises all parties in the room when it comes out of his mouth. 

“For what?” Bokuto asks, tilting his head to the side. 

Akaashi stops to think for a minute, truly contemplating why he’s so thankful for Bokuto. “I-,” he stops again. “You-.” Akaashi can’t fit the words together in the right order or the right severity. It’s like each word is a piece of the puzzle, but none of them fit together. Jamming them together will only break the pieces, so he stops, humming gently, and smiling at Bokuto. “Everything.”

Bokuto still looks confused. He goes to press on, to ask Akaashi to open up, but he’s interrupted by the sounds of an angry Kuroo right outside of the door. “Where  _ is _ he?!” Kuroo is grumbling. Akaashi and Bokuto stay silent, eyes opened completely, attention flickering from each other to the door. 

“What do we  _ do? _ ” Akaashi asks, concerned.

“We… Uh, We’ll just wait until he leaves the room and then we can pop out there and just act like we were doing backstage things,” Bokuto answers. Akaashi bets that he thinks his plan is foolproof. The thought makes Akaashi giggle, his heart feeling light in his chest as he kisses him again. It takes Bokuto by surprise, but he melts into it almost instantaneously. 

The kiss is broken by the sound of silence outside of the door. They smooth out their clothes one last time before walking out of the closet, shutting the door behind them lightly, but quickly. “Do I look okay?” Akaashi asks. He’s still worried about someone finding out about them. All of the worries that he lacked when he was getting relentlessly fucked comes rushing to him now. 

Bokuto is in the middle of surveying his presentability when Kuroo rushes into the room again. They both say a small thank you to the small window that was provided and that they were able to slip out unknowingly. 

“Bo, where have you been? The rep wants to talk to us…  _ All  _ of us,” Kuroo asks. His eyebrows are furrowed so much so that it’ll probably create worry lines on his forehead. “I’ve stalled for as long as I can, but she’s been very adamant about wanting to meet you.”

It’s only after he’s said his piece and explained his concern that he soaks in the entire situation. The furrow in his brow changes from worry to confusion to realization to a mix of disbelief, amusement, and a small pinch of exasperation. Akaashi wants to crawl into a hole and die. Anything would be better than standing here, hair evidently disheveled, chest rising and falling much too quickly for only “doing backstage things”, swollen lips, and marks on his neck. He wishes he had gone with the turtleneck instead. 

He runs his hand through his freshly messed up hair, desperately trying to fix it in some way to make it look less…  _ sex triggered? _ He knows that Kuroo has every idea about what happened in that closet and his face is getting even redder than he thought to be possible.  _ Oh my God, what if someone had heard them? Akaashi hadn’t exactly been mindful of his volume, not that Bokuto seemed to mind, NOT THE POINT _ . 

“What… were you guys doing, exactly?” Kuroo asks despite obviously knowing what had happened. 

“Oh, y’know. Just, putting away some equipment,” Bokuto shrugs, wincing a bit at what Akaashi can only assume is the freshly engraved fingernail marks on his upper shoulder and back. 

“Yeah? Hurt your back?” Kuroo gestures to Bokuto’s reaction. He narrows his eyes, daring Bokuto to confess what happened to him. 

“Definitely. Something scratched me up real good.” Akaashi almost chokes. “When we were moving the equipment around and stuff.”

Kuroo’s head swivels around, looking back at the pile of equipment that has very clearly not been touched. “But the pile doesn’t look-.”

“We moved it all back,” Akaashi explains. If he was trying to make Kuroo sound stupid, he might have gotten away with it if his voice hadn’t have been particularly hoarse. 

“Riiight. That makes a ton of sense, totally. Anyway, can you please just come and meet the rep?” He turns around, motioning Bokuto to follow him. He does. Kuroo seems to have dropped it much quicker than they thought he was going to, but it seems slightly fishy. As soon as Bokuto has practically caught up to Kuroo, Kuroo whips his head around, his body following suit. “Admit to me that you guys had sex in the janitor’s closet or I’ll tell Tsukishima.”

“He’ll never let me live that down,” Bokuto’s eyes widened, a doe-like expression settling over them. Akaashi can’t stand idly by and let this happen. He walks up to Bokuto, holding onto his arm like an old married couple. 

“You have no proof. Stop bullying him. Nothing happened,” Akaashi stands his ground, Kuroo looking him up and down. 

“Fine. Fine. Get your boyfriend to stand down, Bo,” Kuroo surrenders, putting both of his hands in the air. He laughs after he turns around to make sure that Akaashi knew he meant no harm. “I’ll meet you out there, okay?” 

Akaashi’s heart flutters at the word boyfriend, though he knows it’s not official, it’s intimidating to hear Bokuto’s friends poke fun about it, even if they had just finished their week of constantly seeing each other with backstage sex in a supply closet. The thought sends a shiver down Akaashi’s spine. If it wasn’t for the pertinence of the meeting that Bokuto was about to have, Akaashi might have pulled him back into the closet again. It’s important to note that, despite the meeting, Akaashi definitely could have coerced Bokuto back in there if he was a shitty person. 

“Go meet with them, Bokuto-chan, I’ll see you when you get back,” Akaashi nods his head towards the door that Kuroo had just left through. It only takes him a half of a second to realize what he had just said. Somehow this is making him blush more than anything from the closet. Yukie and he had joked about it so often that it just happened to slip out. 

He’s not sure what reaction he expected from Bokuto, but his mind swarmed with negative ones. Bokuto tilts his head down ever so slightly, making direct eye contact with Akaashi who was trying to prevent exactly that. “I- I don’t,” Akaashi starts.

“I like it,” Bokuto’s smile seems fueled with even more confidence than before. Akaashi blushes, trying to hide his face away from Bokuto’s gaze. Such is the theme this week, Bokuto brushes his thumb under Akaashi’s chin, not allowing him to hide away. “I’ll see you when I get back, Keiji,” Bokuto brings his lips down onto Akaashi’s for a second before pulling away completely. 

After the constant touching over the past hour, the lack of physical contact with Bokuto makes his heart frown.  _ This is important for him, Akaashi. Focus.  _ “Good luck, Bokuto-chan,” Akaashi calls out to him as he’s leaving. 

“I don’t need luck. I have you,” Bokuto says, his head turned back around to smirk at Akaashi while pushing through the door to the other side of the venue. 

* * *

It feels like hours waiting for Bokuto to return backstage. He occupied himself with talking to Kenma for most of the time, though, he was unsure if Kenma wanted to be talking to him in the first place. He made sure to thank him for talking to Bokuto. Kenma made sure to apologize on behalf of Kuroo. When Akaashi told him that Kuroo had already apologized, Kenma was so shocked that he nearly dropped his phone. The two of them talked about what a big deal the representative was and what it could mean for them. 

Kenma talked about his history with the band, how they met, what his responsibilities are now, his relationship with each of the members. It seemed eerily unusual, how much Kenma was offering. Akaashi thinks that the only reason he’s doing it is because he can see how nervous he is. He keeps glancing down at his watch and every time there are footsteps outside of the dressing room, his eyes flicker up. 

“Hey, stop that,” Kenma says, interrupting his own story about how he and Kuroo met on Akaashi’s 31st glance up at the door. 

Akaashi wipes his palms on his jeans, sinking back into the back of the chair. Not looking at the door every time something makes a noise on the other side takes more willpower than he’s ever had to muster. 

“You’re making me anxious. Why do you keep looking up at the door?” Kenma has set down his phone and is sending questioning looks at Akaashi. 

“They’ve just been meeting for so long. I just want to know what happened,” Akaashi complains, now exuding his anxieties by bouncing his leg slightly. Kenma notices it almost instantly but doesn’t say anything. 

“Look. They’ve had a lot of meetings like this. A lot of the time they don’t end up with anything and it sucks, but sometimes they walk away from it with a maybe and a  _ “call me later”  _ and advice on how to improve,” Kenma shrugs, but one look at Akaashi’s face and he knows that that answer has only made things worse. “What I mean is,” he pauses, “no matter what happens, they’re obviously doing fine. They’re doing better than ever, so we can’t just sit here, glancing up at the door waiting for them to come back. Plus, it’s probably better that they’re taking longer.”

Akaashi nods understanding, but still letting his eyes focus on the door briefly when someone walks past. He exhales, letting all of the air out of his lungs and closing his eyes. “You’re right. I know.”

It’s quiet in the room, only the sounds of Kenma’s thumbs on his phone and the occasional familiar  _ buzz _ of a text notification. They both sit without saying a word, but the room feels calmer now. Kenma breaks the silence. “So, are we going to talk about what happened earlier backstage? Or are we going to just ignore it forever? How should we play this?”

Akaashi feels all of the visible parts of his skin turn red. He clears his throat, mulling over how exactly to respond to this when the door finally opens. Akaashi was so taken aback by Kenma’s question that he didn’t even notice the footsteps outside of it the one time that it matters. Despite everything in Akaashi wanting to jump up and ask a million questions, he stays seated as Bokuto, Kuroo, Tsukishima, and Yamaguchi all walk into the room. 

He’s trying to read their faces, to get any hint of emotion on any of their faces to see the results of the meeting. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi’s faces are useless. Tsukishima looks as bored as he always does and Yamaguchi just looks like he’s happy to be there, the same look resting on his face as was before. Kuroo’s face is strangely solemn, but not angry or sad. Akaashi’s one hope is Bokuto who, for the first time since Akaashi has met him, has no emotions riding on his face. Typically, every small thing that went through Bokuto’s brain translated directly to his face. Every thought that graces Bokuto’s mind causes the muscles in his face to contort into different emotions very quickly, but there were no signs of anything on his face.

Akaashi’s heart starts sinking, thinking about everything that Kenma said and how he said this often goes. He would be here to witness this one, though. He could already see their emotionless faces and he wasn’t ready to hear about the rejection. They’re all quiet as they sit down around the room, Bokuto sitting so close to Akaashi that their thighs are pressed up against each other. 

He rubs circles into the small of Bokuto’s back, feeling Bokuto relax into his hand. He rests his head on Bokuto’s shoulder, gently and grasps his hand with his free hand. He moves his hand from Bokuto’s back to his chin, turning his face towards him with all the intent in the world to kiss him despite all of the people in the room and the moment that they’re in. 

But then he sees something in Bokuto’s eyes, a glimmer of excitement, and the rest falls like dominos. It’s a small upturn of the corner of his mouth, and then it’s the crinkle on the outside of his eyes, and then it’s the slightly flared nostrils, and then a more drastic smile. Before Akaashi can even ask what’s going on, Tsukishima speaks, “I told you he was going to ruin it, tch.”

“Bo, we’ve been here for not even 30 seconds. I mean, I thought I had a good 2 minutes before you gave it away,” Kuroo shakes his head. The conversation has piqued Kenma’s interest as he wanes his attention away from his device and onto Kuroo. 

There are all of the emotions that Akaashi missed in the few seconds he was void of them. His eyebrows are moving with every emotion he thinks of having. His eyes are moving and squinting and widening. “I-! Akaashi! He-! I couldn’t help it,” Bokuto pouts, looking down at the floor. Akaashi rubs his thumb over top of Bokuto’s, trying to comfort the pouting bassist.

“Gave what away? What happened?” Kenma asks, blinking slowly. 

“Well, we talked to her,” Kuroo starts, his eyes scanning the room as he recalls the events, “and she really loved our sound and our energy. She said that we had something really unique and asked if we had anything in the works or samples of other work that she could take with her.”

“That’s good, hopeful,” Kenma nods. This wasn’t something that Kenma had never seen before. Typically, when someone came by with the same schtick, they would never hear back from them again and were just worried about getting ripped off of their sound or songs. This was definitely a more hopeful outcome, but it didn’t warrant how chipper they all were, so he waits for him to go on.

“She offered us a development deal that she really thinks will turn into a more traditional deal,” Bokuto blurts out. He wasn’t in the business of waiting to get to the good part of the news or dragging it out until the news isn’t even fun anymore. Unlike Kuroo who was scanning the room, telling everyone the good news, Bokuto’s eyes were glued on Akaashi’s only, searching for the same level of excitement that he was exuding.

Akaashi doesn’t disappoint. After everything that Kenma had said before, he wasn’t expecting such amazing news. He didn’t really understand how it worked, but his excitement mimicked Bokuto’s. “She wants us to produce a debut album and then see how it does and then hopefully sign us after it releases,” Bokuto pours, and then somehow even more excited, “she even mentioned the possibility of the  _ T word _ .”

Akaashi might be the only one in the room that doesn’t understand what the  _ “T word” _ is. Thankfully, Kenma reads the confusion on his face and speaks up, “A fully produced album? Hopes of a full contract? A possible  _ tour _ ? Guys, that’s insane.” Kenma evidently wasn’t expecting this positive of a reaction either. 

“Koutarou, that’s incredible,” Akaashi says, grinning and kissing him, hard. He doesn’t even have time to recognize that he’s called him his given name in front of this many of his close friends. Bokuto hasn’t even noticed as he wraps his one arm around Akaashi’s shoulder, pulling him closer. 

They all give their congratulations and excitement, discussing what it actually means, how much work they’re going to have to put into this album, and how important it is that they come out of the gate with a strong sound. In the midst of everyone talking over each other and laughing and asking questions, Bokuto leans over and whispers low enough into Akaashi’s ear that only he can hear it, “My good luck charm worked, Kaashi.” He presses a kiss into the side of his head before pulling away.

“So, yeah, we just have someone look over the legality of the contract, but everything looks great so far. It’s not even like they’re a little, shady company either,” Kuroo explains. He looks like he’s won the lottery. Even Tsukishima hasn’t stopped smiling, though Akaashi thinks that is at least somewhat due in part to Yamaguchi basically in his lap.

When the conversation starts to get quieter, the talk about the future of their band subsiding, Kenma speaks up. “So, as I was asking before you guys walked in,” Kenma starts, but Akaashi is so filled with joy and excitement for Crowlster that he doesn’t register where the conversation is headed, “are we going to talk about what happened in the supply closet earlier? Or are we just going to all pretend it didn’t happen? What’s the action plan?”

Akaashi glares at Kenma, the blush returning to him despite the angry look on his face. “What happened earlier in the supply closet?” Yamaguchi asks, innocently. 

“Bo, Akaashi, did you want to share what happened with the class?” Kuroo smirks at both of them, folding his hands in his lap and nodding expectantly. 

“We-,” Bokuto clears his throat, “I mean, we shouldn’t be talking about me and Akaashi right now. Not when the band is so, ah! Y’know? Congrats and stuff!”

“No, no, please, go on,” Kuroo’s smirk not leaving his face as he speaks. 

Everyone is quiet. Bokuto and Akaashi don’t dare to speak right now. Even if they had the most sound argument, Akaashi knows that his voice would crack before he even got 3 words out. Tsukishima narrows his eyes, “You didn’t.”

“What? What, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asks, the only one in the room that has absolutely no clue as to what happened a few hours earlier.

“You didn’t,” Tsukishima repeats again, not answering Yamaguchi’s question. 

“They did and, quite frankly, I have no idea how you didn’t hear them. I mean, the door was practically gi-,” Kuroo starts, but Akaashi refuses to sit around and listen to them recall the events from the other side of the door.

He stands up abruptly, his hand still in Bokuto’s, tugging at it slightly. “Do you want to go take a walk?”

“Yes. A walk sounds fantastic right now,” Bokuto responds, standing up with Akaashi. 

“Don’t be too long. We want to celebrate later,” Kuroo calls out after them as they make a beeline to the door. 

“And don’t be too long with a repeat of earlier. We don’t need someone calling the cops for murder,” Kenma doesn’t even look up from his phone as he waves to them. Even Tsukishima laughs at this and it’s a good thing that Bokuto and Akaashi are turned away from them because they somehow got even redder.

They’re about to close the door when they hear Yamaguchi’s voice again, louder this time, “What were they even doing!?”

* * *

The air isn’t nearly as chilly walking in down the lit-up streets as it was last Friday by the river. Akaashi is both happy that he doesn’t have goosebumps and sad that he can’t somehow coerce Bokuto into giving him another one of his hoodies. It looks so comfortable, but maybe that’s just because it’s on Bokuto. He’s still thinking about all of the ways that he could get it onto his body.

It’s weird how different it is between the two of them compared to a little over a week ago, and even more so compared to the first time they met. Every time that Boktuo and Akaashi had been together in person, prior to this week, felt drastically different but also felt like it wasn’t there to stay. It’s like their relationship had been changing and evolving so quickly, but showed no signs of stopping. 

But right now, Akaashi can’t imagine their relationship changing one bit. He knows that they will continue to challenge each other and learn from one another, but their days of huge miscommunication were over. There wasn’t a thought that went through his head that he didn’t think he could share with him. In just a few short weeks, Akaashi has grown into Bokuto’s life like he’s belonged there all along. Even since last Friday, he’s been in constant communication with Bokuto and he can’t get enough of it. He’s still with him and he’s thinking about the next time that he gets to see him.

Now just walking with him felt different than last week, despite how incredibly happy they were. There was no fear when Akaashi reached out and grabbed Bokuto’s fingers, lacing them between his own. There were no anxieties bringing their hands up to his mouth, cupping them with his other hand and peppering kisses onto the back of Bokuto’s hand. There were no worries upon laughing and twirling himself around as they walked down the street, only passing crowds of people outside of bars that were still going strong. There were a few times when Akaashi’s heartbeat picked up and his breathing stilled for a moment, like when Bokuto held strongly onto his arm when Akaashi almost tripped over his own two feet or the instantly protective grip on his waist and the defensive comment that he spewed to someone who called Akaashi pretty (but not in the way that Bokuto called him pretty), but Akaashi knows there will never be a time when those things don’t make him react that way. 

He doesn’t even feel awkward or apologize when he pulls on the sleeve of Bokuto’s hoodie, looking at him, hopeful, a puppy-dog-esque look falling upon his face as he plays with the fabric around his wrist. In fact, when Bokuto pulls it off without a question and shivers at the air, Akaashi feels almost accomplished. He takes off his own jacket and hands it to Bokuto, smiling smugly at him and putting on the slightly oversized hoodie. This one is different from the other one that he has, but still has Crowlster’s name printed in big, bold letters. Akaashi’s excited for his collection to grow as their relationship goes on. 

Akaashi’s jacket looks endearing, albeit slightly too small on his arms and shoulders, on Bokuto. Akaashi has found himself in many, though usually by his own doing, of Bokuto’s clothes, but Bokuto has never worn Akaashi’s clothes before. Akaashi knows why Bokuto was so willing to hand over his hoodie. Seeing Bokuto in his clothes feels so intimate. He’s stretching his arms out in front of him and hugging his own body as the shoulders strain, the fabric not used to arms as muscly as Bo’s. “Y’know it’s a bit small,” Bokuto jokes, “but it’s definitely cozy and it smells like you, so.”

Akaashi is supposed to chuckle at how small it looks on him and how animated Bokuto is with his arms, but he can’t make a sound. He’s absolutely infatuated with the man in front of him right now, his jaw hurting from smiling so much and his cheeks covering part of his vision. “I like it.” He wraps his arm around Bokuto’s, hugging it into his body as they walk down the streets.

They don’t have any plans or sense of direction as they weave in and out of side streets and past buildings that look familiar, but also so foreign. As they’re walking, just sharing each other’s company, the buildings begin getting smaller, the lights begin getting dimmer, some turned off completely. The stars are more visible with the lack of direct light surrounding them.

“How did you get into music?” Akaashi’s voice nearly blends into the ambient sounds around them, almost covered by the honk of a distant horn and the laughter of a group of teenagers. In all the time that he’s known Bokuto, he’s never asked him about where his love for music came from or why he does it today. It’s such a big part of their relationship and of Bokuto, but he’s never posed the question.

Bokuto takes a second to think of a satisfactory answer. “I’ve never really been that good at anything before.” Akaashi begins to scoff, but Bokuto cuts off any denial that Akaashi tries to muster up, “I’m serious. I’m not great at reading or writing. Science bores me to death. Math confuses me more than anything in the world. Technology evolves too fast for me to keep up with it. I’m not the most creative person in the world,” he takes a deep breath after listing all of the things he knew he wasn’t good at, counting on his fingers until far too many of them are standing straight up, “but when I picked up the bass for the first time.” He’s quiet again, his eyes glued to the overcast sky, searching for the right words in the sky. 

“When I picked up the bass for the first time, everything clicked.”

It’s quiet. Even the atmospheric noises seem to settle down for Bokuto’s sentence. “Little things that I didn’t really understand or couldn’t comprehend just started making sense when I started to play the bass. I didn’t  _ not  _ like reading and writing. I love reading sheet music and I love writing new songs. I’m great at math when it comes to counts and beats. Instrumental technology fascinates me endlessly and I think I’m pretty good at it. The things that I didn’t like about the world, the things that I wasn’t good at, that people told me I would never be good at, they made sense for me then. I didn’t want to give that feeling up.”

Akaashi hums again, allowing Bokuto to continue on if he so pleases. Kenma had told him a lot about the band’s formation, but he wouldn’t mind hearing it again from Bokuto’s perspective and mouth. He wants to ask questions, to press on about the things that interested him, to ask what the first song he ever learned to play was when he learned that this is what he wanted to do, but Bokuto is looking thoughtfully up at the sky still. His eyebrows are pointed downwards, nearly jointed together between his eyes and chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“That’s what it was like when I met you,” Bokuto’s voice is less audible than the rest of his spiel, but is just as confident. Akaashi’s heart jumps, threatening to stop beating completely if he doesn’t ask for clarification.

“Like… How?” he asks, slowly and unsure of what he’s expecting from the reply.

Bokuto squeezes Akaashi’s hand tighter, his fingers pressing into the back of his band for only a second before relaxing again. He stops walking and Akaashi does the same. This is something that he needs to see Akaashi’s face for. He brushes his hair out of his face, letting his hand linger on his cheek. 

“Everything started to just make sense when I met you. Everything just clicked right into place. I don’t know if that sounds stupid. Each part of my personality that I think about a lot, and I mean  _ a lot _ , was brought into the light and I asked every single time whether or not you would cast it aside, cast me aside,” Bokuto is barely making eye contact with Akaashi as he speaks, “but you like that I’m loud and that I can’t focus sometimes and that I text a million times in a row. You like the parts of me that I didn’t even really like about myself, and you like them a lot, I think, and everything about myself and who I am kinda just clicked. The world kinda just clicked. Do you know what I mean?”

Akaashi’s heart is so full that it might stop beating even though it asked for clarification. He nods softly but doesn’t speak yet, pressing his lips into Bokuto’s, running his hands through his hair, and then burying himself in his chest. The mobility of his arms is lacking, causing his arms to not quite fit completely around him. (Akaashi’s done this to himself.) He’s surrounded by both the smell of Bokuto on the fabric and the actual smell of Bokuto wrapped around Akaashi. Akaashi breathes them both in deeply, replaying the words in his head as he does so. 

“I never got to finish my thank you today in the closet,” he says almost inaudibly into his chest before pulling away and looking up at Bokuto. 

“You said, “everything.” that seems like it encompasses everything,” Bokuto nods, content. This isn’t a jab at Akaashi, it’s genuine. Bokuto is truly happy with the answer having thought it over. 

“Yeah, but it wasn’t enough. Not for me, at least. I didn’t know what to say or how to say it, but I think I do now,” Akaashi takes a step back so that he can look into Bokuto’s eyes. He wants Bokuto to see the truth in them. “Thank you for always being you and for being so kind to me and being patient with me through the miscommunication. Tonight’s show was incredible and I am so glad I could be here to support you and to witness history in the making. You’ve made these last few weeks truly worth living, Kou.”

Bokuto blinks slowly at Akaashi before kissing his forehead, “Well, thank you, then, too.”

“Thank me?” Akaashi's voice fluctuates with the question. Bokuto nods, pleased with himself. 

“You came to every one of my shows, even that one when I ignored you,” Bokuto says, practically scoffing. Yes, that show was horrible, to be fair. “You texted me even when I didn’t deserve to be texted back. You put so much effort into,” he trails off, careful of his next words, “ _ this _ and I could never thank you enough for that. You’re my good luck charm.”

Akaashi feels warm, even despite the hoodie wrapped around him. _ If it needs one last violent push to get it moving again, then, well, he wants to give it one more push,  _ he remembers thinking back before he went to that awful show. He’s so glad that he did give it that final push, even if it was difficult for him. 

“You’re worth it,” Akaashi says, turning forwards again and starting to walk again, but stops briefly to clarify, “the effort, I mean.” He starts to try to walk again, feeling light and so full of adoration and happiness. He somehow feels even better than he had that night by the river. Bokuto is standing in place in the middle of the sidewalk, not moving. Akaashi tugs at his hand gently. “Bo, what?”

The number of times that Bokuto has thought through his words tonight must be a new record. There wasn’t one second of barreling through words, hoping that some will land. Every sentence that he’s said was chosen carefully for Akaashi to hear and this is no exception. Akaashi can feel Bokuto’s palm start to get clammy and Akaashi takes a step back towards Bokuto, concern starting to creep up on him.

“Bo, hey. Are you okay?” Akaashi moves his dangling arm to Bokuto’s shoulder, gently rubbing the side of it until he’s ready to speak.

“Will you be my boyfriend?” There is, surprisingly, no hint of nervousness or doubt, despite how long it took for Bokuto to get that from his brain into the world. The label dangles in the nighttime air, dancing around Akaashi’s head. He’s wanted to hear it so badly, but now that it’s here, he feels like he can’t breathe. He’s so happy. 

He doesn’t answer with words, only launches himself at Bokuto, jumping up and wrapping his legs around him. It’s much different than the past few times that Akaashi has been in the position. Here, Akaashi can smother Bokuto in kisses as he nods against his skin. Part of him is cringing at how excited he is from the simple question, from the specific label. It’s not as if they didn’t act like boyfriends already, but Bokuto had just made it official, or rather, had asked to make it official. 

Akaashi tries to touch his feet back to the ground, attempting to start composing himself, but Bokuto doesn’t let him down, instead tightening his grip around Akaashi’s waist as he waits for an answer. “Yes, yes, I would love nothing more, Kou.”

Bokuto’s lips upturn into a slight smile, but only grows until his mouth is fully open, his teeth on complete display as he sways back and forth with Akaashi in his arms. “Man, I am just on a roll today, aren’t I?” Bokuto asks in between kissing any part of Akaashi’s skin that he possibly can. 

“That’s what happens when you have such a great good luck charm, I guess,” Akaashi jokes, but Bokuto wholeheartedly agrees with this statement. There is no doubt in his mind that nothing would have gone this well tonight if Akaashi hadn't been there with him.

They stay like this for a while, ignoring text messages from everyone back at the venue and even from Yukie, asking where they’re at, only texting back small messages to tell them that they’re safe. Akaashi feels incredibly safe. 

Eventually, Akaashi is very adamant about getting down solely because Bokuto’s arms “must be sore at this point”, even though Bokuto compares carrying Akaashi to “having a backpack around your chest.” When his feet touch the ground again, his arms are still wrapped around the back of Bokuto’s neck, pressed up against him tightly. 

“We should probably try and find our way back to the other’s right?” Akaashi asks, not showing any signs of moving. 

“We probably should. It’s getting late,” Bokuto answers, distracting Akaashi with his fingertips massaging into his waist. 

Akaashi swats his hand slightly, signifying to stop it, but not to dare move his arm. “What if they tease us about the closet again?” Akaashi burns thinking about the events that had taken place earlier in the day. They continue to burn as Akaashi’s mind wanders trying to figure out when it can happen again.

Bokuto’s voice pulls him back to reality, “We’ll just ignore them, yeah? You know why?”

“Why’s that, Bokuto-chan?” Akaashi asks, genuinely curious. 

“Because it’s us against the world, Keiji.” Bokuto sounds so incredibly sure of himself, as if that statement is the only true thing on this planet. 

Akaashi chuckles softly at this, but then he thinks about it. He nods in agreement. “It’s us against the world, Kou.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Leave me a tip or commission me! ](https://ko-fi.com/toriiixoox)   
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> seriously thank u to everyone who has given kudos, bookmarked, commented, interacted on my tumblr (( @a-kaash-me-outside )) and just overall appreciated and loved my fic. I've had such a good time writing it and coming up with the story it's insane. your kind words make my entire week, I s2g.
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> THAT BEING SAID. I'll see u all with the frickin EPILOGUE in a WEEK. it's incredible, ok.


	7. epilogue / contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are! the very very end of this thing that I am so glad came to fruition. thank you everyone who was along for the ride and leaving kudos and commenting and interacting with me. i really can't thank you enough. i hope you enjoy the final part!!! <3

Being back at Contact was such a weird experience. It was 3 years ago today that he had watched Bokuto perform for the first time. It was 3 years ago today that he had made that hasty decision that he immediately regretted and continued to regret until he saw Bokuto’s face and the way that he played the bass so effortlessly. 3 years ago today is when Akaashi started falling for Bokuto.

So much time had passed, so many things had changed since the first time that they were both here all those years ago. Akaashi hadn’t really noticed all of the small things that evolved through the years until he was back in the same venue as the first time he saw him. He knew that their setlist had changed and developed since then and that their skills had only gotten better since that show, but it was more than that. 

This once overtly, indisputably wild Bokuto, now felt much more domestic to him. He knew that everyone else in the crowd saw him the same way that they had throughout their support, if not more wild and chaotic today. But how could Akaashi see him like that when he knew how he liked to be the little spoon when it was storming outside or that he got so excited when Akaashi put matcha mochi in his bento? 

Akaashi remembers the first time that Bokuto had told him that he loved him, the nervous look on his face, the lack of eye contact, the shifting of his weight every two seconds. He remembers how he took Akaashi’s hand into his own and pressed his lips to it gently before telling him that he was in love with him. He didn’t make it a big deal. There was no hour-long explanation following it or a grand gesture with presents and a flash mob (that was very probable for Bokuto). He said it softly so that only Akaashi could hear and then he kissed him. 

He remembers when Bokuto tried to make him soup when he caught a cold and how Akaashi had to clean the stove with tissues stuffed up his nose and his whole body aching because it completely boiled over and he didn’t trust Bokuto getting that close to the burner. On that day, Bokuto apologized to Akaashi more times than he could count. Akaashi told him repeatedly not to worry about it. Despite his skin hurting and the fact that he couldn’t regulate his body temperature (he was always too hot or too cold), he didn’t hold any annoyance or animosity towards Bokuto. Bokuto finally stopped whining when Akaashi told him that all he wanted was to get back in bed and wear Bokuto’s hoodie and be cuddled. That night, Bokuto stayed up the entire night to make sure that Akaashi was comfortable. He stroked his hair to calm him to sleep. He replaced the cool rag on his forehead when his fever made it too warm. When Akaashi did wake up because of his temperature or his queasy stomach, Bokuto made sure that he drank water.

He remembers Bokuto getting sick immediately after Akaashi got better and how much of a baby he was. Despite not throwing up once, he made sure Akaashi left the wastebasket by the side of his bed every night. He would thrash around in bed, kicking his legs to get the blanket off of him when he was hot and complaining when the blankets were off of him when he started to feel cold again. Bokuto was sick for a little less than half of the time than Akaashi was sick, but it felt like forever. The one moment of quiet that Akaashi had was when Bokuto would finally tire himself to sleep, pulling Akaashi into him and holding him tightly as he fell asleep. He drooled all over Akaashi’s shoulder that night and apologized heavily in the morning. 

After all of these memories rushed through his head at once, how could Akaashi ever see him the way that most people did? 

In the past 3 years, Akaashi and Bokuto felt like they had learned everything there is to know about one another. They knew their favorite and least favorite foods, how they liked their morning beverages when they woke up (Akaashi liked a plain citrus tea and Bokuto liked a black coffee with 3 sugars), which parts of what movies make either of them cry the hardest, what their go-to hangover cure is, their favorite fonts, which side of the bed they prefer and why, how needy Akaashi is in the morning after spending a tipsy night together, how much of a weakness Akaashi’s entire needy being is for Bokuto, how each of them shows their love boundlessly. Even with the large volume of information and facts they had about each other, they were still learning new things every day. 

Akaashi’s hoodie arsenal has grown as well, various colors, cuts, and crops all filling his wardrobe which mostly stays at Bokuto’s apartment now. He’s moved a lot of his stuff to Bokuto’s apartment, actually. He spends most of the week there. Bokuto’s bed is just so much comfier than his and Bokuto’s apartment is closer to his work. Yukie doesn’t mind Akaashi’s absence all that much, not since she found Kaori who spends almost all of her free time at their house. Kuroo and Tsukishima don’t seem to mind that much either. Akaashi makes dinner most nights of the week, a drastic change to their prior almost nightly take-out. He also packs their bento boxes on long days at the studio and separates their clothes into lights and darks before they go into the washer. Honestly, Akaashi has no idea how they functioned before he had frequented so often. He likes to think that the small things that he does are some sort of compensation for their rooms being right next to and across from Bokuto’s room on particular nights. 

* * *

Akaashi is sitting at a table near the middle of the room, right behind the floor. He has a good view of the stage, but can sit down and relax without being bombarded with people pushing into him. The difference in the number of people is crazy. The show had been sold out for weeks prior to the show’s date and the venue was packed to the brim with people. Typically, they were playing much larger venues, but coincidentally they were playing at the same venue that Akaashi had first been to on the anniversary of said show.  _ Coincidentally. _

Crowlster’s entrance never surprises him anymore, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t make him overwhelmingly excited still. The lights go down, Tsukishima begins playing, and then the lights come up showing their faces. Their first song is one that Akaashi knows very well, but that’s not exactly saying something. After attending most of their shows for 3 years, Akaashi knows nearly all of their songs very well. He follows the beat, bobbing his head as he listens along, cheering when their first song is over. 

Typically, this is where Kuroo introduces himself, introduces Tsukishima and Bokuto who usually wave, and then states their band name and some cheesy “Welcome to our show!” line, but as soon as the song ends, Kuroo falls to the back corner of the stage where Bokuto resides. Bokuto walks up to the center of the stage, adjusting the mic stand to his height and waving to the crowd enthusiastically. Never, in the almost 3 years of their relationship, had Bokuto started the show. Akaashi blinks in surprise, staring up at Bokuto whose eyes catch his. 

“Hey hey hey, everyone!” Bokuto is beaming as he greets the crowd. He gets a collection of Hey!s and cheers in response. “I know I don’t normally introduce the band and such, but it just, uh, felt right today!” More cheers. 

“3 years ago today we actually played at this same venue,” Bokuto states, his eyes staying stuck on Akaashi as the crowd hollered. “I know, it’s crazy. 3 years is a long time.” He clears his throat. “3 years ago today I also met someone really special to me. He’s here tonight, probably sitting at a table drinking a beer while he supports me like he’s done every night this week. I just- I just wanted to say thank you and, Akaashi, this next song is for you and I hope you like it.”

Akaashi’s entire being feels warm. He feels like everyone in the venue is searching for him. He looks down at his beer and laughs. There are definitely some people who look like they’re trying to figure out who it is, but most people are focusing on the stage listening to this brand new song. Akaashi hadn’t even heard this song, despite the numerous nights he had spent over Bokuto’s apartment when they were practicing. When did he have time to write, practice, and produce an entire song with how much time they spend together?

The song is much different than all of the other songs that they usually play. It’s much softer and less in your face, but it still fits their brand and sound. The lyrics are cheesy and dumb and make Akaashi’s cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. Bokuto had played for him, just him, many times before. He had written him choruses and small verses, sharing them in Bokuto’s bedroom late at night. But Akaashi had never had a full song written about him. 

His eyes are glued to the stage, to Bokuto specifically as he’s playing slow, intricate chords and runs. The song is over far too quickly. If the rest of the show was just that song on repeat, it would have been the happiest he’d ever been. The rest of the show picks up pace; it’s the same type of amazing show that Akaashi has become so familiar with. 

He’s also become so familiar with the routine of walking backstage. Despite the different layouts of the various venues that Crowlster has played at, the routine was always the same. There would be some sort of lanyard or wristband, a door around the side of the stage or through a small door in the front room, hallways and dressing rooms hidden behind the stage. Particularly at Contact, a venue that they hadn’t played at recently, but played quite a few times in the first year of their relationship, all of the stagehands recognize him. 

He weaves through the hallways behind the stage to find Bokuto, asking various crew members who direct him to several wrong places before he makes it to the lounge. Bokuto is sitting on the couch, talking to Kenma and Kuroo, when Akaashi walks in. Their seemingly somewhat serious conversation is interrupted as Bokuto stands up as soon as he notices Akaashi step into the room, throwing himself around him.

“Kaashi! How was the show!” Bokuto pulls back from the hug, scanning his face for the answer preemptively. Akaashi can’t help but press a kiss into Bokuto’s nose, his eyes flickering as he impatiently waits for a nonverbal tell. 

“Incredible, like always, Kou.” Bokuto waits for Akaashi to continue. “When did you find time to write a song for me?”

“What? Did you not like it?” The bassist’s hair droops slightly as he begins to pout. 

“No, no, of course, I loved it, but we’re always together, when did you do that?” Akaashi asks, kissing Bokuto again to reiterate how much he loved him and the song. 

“Usually when you were at work or something,” he waves his hand, before continuing on for more praise, “but you loved it?”

Akaashi places both of his hands on either side of Bokuto’s face, pulling it into his and kissing him, keeping it there for an almost uncomfortable amount of time before retracting back and staring at him. “Bo, I loved it more than anything. Thank you.”

Bokuto smiles slightly, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards, but not nearly as much as they would be normally. Looking past him, Akaashi can see Kenma and Kuroo sitting on one of the couches, Kenma’s head in Kuroo’s lap as he plays his switch. They’re talking about something quietly, Kuroo’s face furrowing into a deep worry before Kenma smooths his hand over Kuroo’s knee. Akaashi isn’t typically one to be nosy, to pry into others’ conversations, but lately, he’s been slightly on edge and this isn’t helping; neither is the sentence Bokuto says next. 

“Can we talk?” Bokuto asks, bringing his voice down. Akaashi’s heart instantly begins to race, his mind wandering to places that it hasn’t in a long time. Bokuto’s eyes are innocent, but Akaashi’s thoughts are all over the place, jumping to the worst places that they could. “Do you want to go take a walk?” Bokuto tries to correct himself, bringing his hand down to Akaashi’s and giving it a small squeeze. Akaashi knows that Bokuto can feel how clammy his hands are getting already. 

“Yeah, mhm, sure,” Akaashi says. He’s trying his best to not seem overly anxious about the conversation that’s about to take place. Bokuto doesn’t stop to grab his jacket or tell Kuroo and Kenma that they’re leaving, just grabs Akaashi’s hand, and leads him out of the door as soon as he says yes. 

* * *

It had been a while since they’d taken a walk after a show. With their ever going popularity, it’s gotten increasingly harder to be around the venue after the show without getting bombarded with girls. Maybe Bokuto’s shoutout at the beginning of the show helped. 

“Can you believe that we’ve been together for almost 3 years? That we’ve known each other for 3 years?” Bokuto asks after they’ve been walking in tense silence for almost 10 minutes. 

“Does it feel like a lot of time or a little?” This question probably would have been much more endearing had Bokuto not said the words  _ “Can we talk?” _ to him prior to their walk. It would have seemed like a question reminiscing about their past, but now it sounds like he’s about to go onto all the ways he’s grown in the past 3 years and Akaashi hasn’t. 

Bokuto thinks about this for a minute, his eyes focused on the sky like he always loves to do. “I think a little of both,” he finally settles on, then goes on to explain, “Like, I feel like it was just yesterday that I was trying to look cool and drink my coffee in front of you and then burned my tongue, but it also feels like I’ve known you forever. Does that make any sense?”

Akaashi slides his hand into Bokuto’s, a smile finding its way to his face even with all of the worry inside of him. Thinking back to the time that they had first met calms him down, if only for a few minutes. He laces their fingers together, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles. Despite spending more than half of the day touching Bokuto in some way or another, he still never passes up an opportunity, even a small one, to feel his skin against his. “It totally makes sense.”

There’s something that’s been on Akaashi’s mind for the past month that he’s wanted to bring up for a while. It’s not like Bokuto had been acting unaffectionate towards him, but there was something off. He worked later, not climbing into bed until well after Akaashi had already started drifting to sleep. He had been on his phone more often. He wasn’t meeting him for lunch as frequently. Akaashi trusted him with everything he was, but he just didn’t understand his shift in behavior. Every time that he would think to bring it up, they’d be around people or it just didn’t feel like the right time. 

Now, however, didn’t even really feel like the right time. He knew that Bokuto had something to say to him, something to talk about. He knew that it was their 3 year anniversary of when they had first met, that they were walking down the street hand-in-hand alone. It didn’t feel like the right time, but if Akaashi waits any longer for a more opportune time, he’s not sure Bokuto would ever know. 

They both start speaking at the same time, both starting with the other’s name and saying something like “so…” 

“You go first,” Akaashi offers, wanting to get Bokuto’s conversation over with, in all honesty.

“No, you go first,” Bokuto declines, shaking his head and gesturing towards Akaashi. 

“Okay, okay.” He accepts for two reasons. One, he knows Bokuto like the back of his hand. They would have kept going in this cycle for hours if Akaashi didn’t just accept. Two, if his worst fears were to come true, Akaashi wouldn’t even be able to clear the air. He doesn’t exactly know how to start the conversation. Everything that he’s rehearsed in his head sounds stupid. He’s not trying to sound accusatory or distrustful in the slightest. “You’ve been acting kinda weird lately, I think.”

“Like how?” 

Akaashi starts to list the ways that Bokuto’s been slightly off lately. He listens intently to his boyfriend, nodding at every point that he makes, taking in all of the information. The concentrated look on his face makes Akaashi wonder why he hadn’t told him any sooner. When Akaashi’s finally done talking, Bokuto takes a deep breath. 

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.” Bokuto looks unusually serious going into the conversation. Akaashi now remembers why he hadn’t told him sooner. Whatever Bokuto wanted to tell him was obviously a big deal. Bokuto had looked nervous ever since they made it outside and Bokuto rarely got nervous. 

The first thought that Akaashi thinks is the worst one, the one that he can’t stop obsessing over.  _ Bokuto’s going to break up with me _ . It had been an amazing 3 years, or so he thought, but Bokuto’s tone, the look on his face, everything about this conversation screams break up. He tries to remember fights that they’ve had, though they’d never had a big one and the things that might annoy him. The memories flood his mind. Akaashi flinches right before Bokuto speaks, waiting for the letdown. 

“We’re going on tour,” Bokuto blurts out. Akaashi just blinks at him, so he talks more. “Like, tour, tour. Like around the country for a year, playing at different venues and music shows and stuff.” Bokuto wasn’t breaking up with him, he was just talking to him about the fact that they wouldn’t be able to see each other for an entire year as he traveled the country without him. “The label just told us the news a few days ago. I had been going out to lunch with the label and tour managers, staying up late to plan for dates and get a setlist compiled, just working a lot.” Bokuto gives an example for each of Akaashi’s worries about him being weird, but now there’s a much bigger worry.

“So, I won’t see you for a whole year?” Akaashi asks, his chest starting to feel tight, his voice low, and his eyes glued to the sidewalk. With the amount of time that he and Bokuto spend together and Yukie’s new girlfriend, the thought of Bokuto not being there for a long period of time makes his anxiety worsen even more so. Somehow, this is making him panic more than the thought of a breakup. 

Bokuto is silent for a few minutes and Akaashi can feel him sweating against his palm. “Will you go on tour with us?” His voice is low and unstable and Akaashi almost has to ask him to repeat himself; it took him aback so harshly. The recognition hits. Bokuto had been nervous all week thinking about how Akaashi would react. He should have been overwhelmingly excited about this news, about going on tour, but he’s been completely stressed out.

A million thoughts run through Akaashi’s head, but the loudest one is just a repetitive yes. He knows that he has responsibilities, knows that his answer should be  _ “I’ll think about it” _ , knows all of the hardships that are going to come with saying yes, with actually going. 

“I know that it’s a lot to ask, but I just, I had to ask. I want you there with me on the road, traveling, going to different countries, vacationing on our time off. I don’t want to spend the year without you, Keiji. I mean, I-.”

Akaashi interrupts him, cutting off Bokuto’s potential explanation of what it would mean if Akaashi didn’t come with him. He didn’t think his heart could even take the thought. “Yes.” and then again, louder and more confident, “Yes, Bo, I will.”

“Really?” His eyes light up and he stops in his tracks, stepping in front of Akaashi and literally jumping up and down. “Akaashi, really?”

How could he even say no when Bokuto looks this adorable? “Of course. I’ll make it happen. No matter what. I want to be there with you. I can’t spend a year without you, Kou.” 

Bokuto squats down, wrapping his arms right beneath Akaashi’s butt and picking him up. He spins him in circles, pressing kisses into his chest as he does so. Akaashi has learned, over these 3 years, that Bokuto loves to pick him up. “There’s just something about having your entire world in your arms. Makes you feel powerful,” he had said the one-time Akaashi asked him why it was happening so frequently. 

Akaashi is laughing, head thrown back, every ounce of worry that was inside of him now nowhere in sight. 

* * *

The chaos of the first show of the tour was unlike anything Akaashi had ever seen. Not only had Akaashi never seen the start-to-finish process of prepping for a show, but it was much larger than any other show they had ever played.

Akaashi had a newfound appreciation for every aspect of their shows. He had been backstage before shows in the past, had even helped out with various tasks that Bokuto needed as he stressed about making it to stage on time, but never had he witnessed such coordinated chaos. He watched Bokuto running around, making sure that his IEM was working. He watched Kuroo checking in with the stage manager, making sure that the lights and sounds were good to go. He watched Tsukishima testing every instrument, each string, each drum. He watched Kenma walk hurriedly by with a stack of t-shirts piled in his arms. Everyone was running around so quickly that Akaashi felt out of place. Even Yamaguchi was following Tsukki around making sure that he was doing okay and being there if he needed anything. 

He walked over to Bokuto who was anxiously struggling with his earpiece. He reached out, softly taking the earpiece from Bokuto’s fumbling fingers. Bokuto jumped at the touch despite how dainty it was. Akaashi ran his thumb over Bokuto’s jaw, turning his head away from him and putting the earpiece in in one delicate motion. “Better?” he asked, turning his head back towards him, his finger gently guiding his chin. Bokuto nodded, the panic in his eyes still there, but lessening. 

“Thank you, Kaashi,” Bokuto said, taking a deep breath. Even more panic left his eyes. Akaashi kissed him. 

“Do you need anything else, Kou?” Akaashi asked, following Yamaguchi’s lead in making sure their boyfriends don’t combust before the first show. Bokuto thought for a second before starting to shake his head no, but then interrupted himself and very obnoxiously nodding yes. “What’s up?”

“Just walk with me as I finish getting ready?” Bokuto asked. The only thing that Akaashi could see in his eyes now was pure innocence. Of course, Akaashi agreed, pressing his palm against Bokuto’s and running around with him as he finished getting ready. 

Even though the prep was chaotic, there was nothing like the energy of the first show. Akaashi wasn’t sure if this particular show was heightened because it was the first show of their first actual tour, but as they were playing, the pure exuberance never faded, not for a second. Even after they had gotten off stage, Bokuto’s presence and energy were reminiscent of that show all those years ago with their band rep. Akaashi felt warm thinking about it again. 

The second that Bokuto saw Akaashi after getting off stage, he picked him up, throwing him over his shoulder and screaming. As dizzy as Akaashi was getting, he didn’t have the heart to tell Bokuto to put him down, he just looked so great, so happy. “That show was the best one yet, I swear to God,” Akaashi complimented him from over his shoulder. 

Bokuto set him down, hands on his shoulders, “You think so? I think the crowd thought so too honestly.” His pupils refused to stay still, flickering back and forth, looking at every aspect of Akaashi and then behind him and around the room. He was so hyped up, his heartbeat racing. 

“I’m so glad that I’m here with you, Kou,” Akaashi said, a smile breaking through on his face as he noticed how cute Bokuto looks right now. He brushed his hair back, not even flinching at the sweat on his scalp as he braced the back of his head and pulled him closer to him, kissing him deeply. Bokuto grabbed back, his hands planting firmly on Akaashi’s lower back. 

“I don’t think anyone is on the bus,” Bokuto said, low and in his ear. Akaashi can feel himself flush as he pulls away from Bokuto, looking into his hungry eyes. He knew that Bokuto reminded him so much of that night.

“You just finished your first show. You don’t think that everyone is going to want to celebrate, I m-,” Akaashi started to reason, but Bokuto just tightened his grip on Akaashi. 

“I want to celebrate with you.” 

Akaashi swallows, his eyes meeting Bokuto’s again. He knows how weak he is against Bokuto, especially a sweaty, post-show-confidence Bokuto. He nods before searching the room for anyone watching them, noticing them as they walk out of the back entrance of the venue. 

It was the first of many, many, many,  _ many _ . 

* * *

The longer that the tour went on, the more he felt like he belonged there, like he was a part of their team. Everyone had specific jobs to do, even if they weren’t specified. Kenma’s role was much more intensive than anyone else’s, seeing as he actually got paid for manufacturing, designing, and producing the merchandise for the entire tour, but Yamaguchi and Akaashi were in charge of Tsukishima and Bokuto’s mood, respectively. On nights that Tsukishima couldn’t think of new song ideas or would mess up in practice, he would get overly hard on himself, taking it out on the rest of the band or just staying quietly annoyed at himself. Either way, without Yamaguchi, this would go on for days. Yamaguchi had a certain way of making Tsukishima talk about what was wrong and explaining to Tsukki that it was okay to have troubles sometimes, as long as you ask for help. No one else could ever talk to Tsukishima this way. 

Akaashi had a similar, but different problem. Bokuto would get down on himself, sulking and whining, if he didn’t get what he wanted or felt like he let the band down in any way. Akaashi’s presence, in general, made the situation better, but more so, he knew what to say when he got like that. He knew exactly how to cheer him up, what to make the band say to him to make him feel better, when to say it. Coming out of it, Bokuto would be the most positive, confident team player that anyone had ever seen. No one knew Bokuto like Akaashi did, especially when he got into his moods. 

Yamaguchi was also unofficially in charge of keeping the tour bus tidy. He dusted, made sure the tables stayed clean, that everyone was picking up after themselves, that the floors didn’t get cluttered and dirty, that the dishes were done, and that their beds were made. He liked the responsibility, but he also liked being able to boss Tsukki around when he left his dirty clothes on his bunk.

Akaashi was also in charge of making sure that the 6 of them ate, and that they ate decent food. Eating food that wasn’t complete garbage while on tour was a difficult task, but Akaashi made sure that it happened: cooking at their hotels when he could, making small meals to take with them on the bus, or using the tiny kitchen that was actually on the bus when he was absolutely desperate. He was also painfully aware that Bokuto and Kenma hated vegetables, Kuroo and Bokuto preferred a high protein diet, Yamaguchi and Kenma  _ said _ that they weren’t picky, but would both turn their noses up at anything steamed, Tsukishima’s flavor palate was weirdly sophisticated, but also so boring, Kuroo hated carbs, but told Akaashi that he loved carbs so that he could give Kenma his extras, and everyone was a  _ nightmare _ when it came to actually eating breakfast in the morning. But there were those rare moments that made it all worth it, like when Akaashi had made fresh ramen after a particularly successful show and he watched everyone sit in silence, and he means  _ everyone _ , not even one word from Bokuto or Kuroo, as they slurped happily and thanked Akaashi for hours after they were finished.

He had felt like he belonged, like he was a part of their band family, despite being the latest addition. 

The tour also meant that Bokuto has seen Akaashi in his glasses an absurd amount, but he still fawns over them excessively every time that he wears them. Before, even when Akaashi was practically living with Bokuto, he had only seen him in his glasses once or twice. When they were home, Akaashi would use them at night to read or when he got up to go to the bathroom. Being on a moving tour bus was a completely different story. There was no way that Akaashi was dealing with contacts while they were driving. 

Every single time that Akaashi wore his glasses, Bokuto would sit and gawk for hours. Even when they were focusing on other tasks, Bokuto would insist on sitting in a place where he could see Akaashi clearly. This didn’t just happen a handful of times, it was happening every night. And every night, it never lessened in severity. Bokuto had hearts in his eyes as he watched Akaashi adjust his glasses on his face. Akaashi didn’t really understand why exactly Bokuto acted like this around him, but when Bokuto tried them on, blinking quickly when he couldn’t see out of them, but still smiling dumbly, Akaashi understood completely. 

The year was filled with some of the best shows that Akaashi has ever seen, both from back behind the stage and in the crowd. Sometimes he would even drag Kenma out with him and Yamaguchi, standing front row as they looked up at their boyfriends. It was much easier to drag Yamaguchi out into the crowd with him than Kenma. Yams absolutely loved to watch Tsukki from the floor, though, he didn’t really like being surrounded by so many people.

Some weeks are filled with shows every single night, other weeks shows were scarce with maybe one or two of the seven days. When they had downtime between shows, Bokuto and Akaashi would sightsee as much as they could. Akaashi thought that being on the road with Bokuto would lead to them not wanting to spend as much time together or that the time they did spend together would mostly consist of sleeping or just relaxing. Though some of the time they did nap or just hang out and play video games with the rest of the band, in between shows, and whenever they would get to a new city, they would always explore. 

It was truly Akaashi’s favorite memories of the tour. He kept a camera full of photos of them at different monuments and stupid souvenir shops and dumb tourist attractions. They were always doing something, eating new foods, seeing other shows, visiting cool places, and always doing it together. 

Watching them evolve as a band, to grow and flourish, was one of the most rewarding experiences of Akaashi’s entire life. Having Bokuto in his life hadn’t only brought the blessing that is Bokuto into his life. Having Bokuto in his life, being so close to him, and spending so much time with him meant the closest group of friends that Akaashi has ever had in his entire life. 

Throughout the tour, he had learned so much about the band and the way they functioned together. He learned all of Tsukishima’s annoyances and Kuroo’s quirks, but he also learned so much about Kenma and Yamaguchi. The six of them spent so much time together in such small places, but they rarely fought. (When they did fight it was often resolved by some time apart and some sort of video game.) They somehow worked (almost) perfectly well together. Kuroo and Bokuto’s loudness being offset by Kenma and Yamaguchi’s quietness and Tsukishima and Akaashi’s smarts. They grew closer as friends, creating such a tight-knit family by the end of the tour. 

* * *

The closer they got to the end of the tour, the more of a ritual it became to take a walk outside of the venue after a show. Sometimes they would sneak out of the back right after the show ended before they could even help pack up, but other times they would wait until the entire venue was empty and walk right out of the front. Walking around the areas after the show gave them time to appreciate and remember each place that they went to, but it also gave them consistent time together, just the two of them.

By the last two weeks of the show, they were taking walks every single night. Bokuto was very adamant about taking a walk specifically tonight. He told Akaashi that there was a pier that wasn’t too far away from the venue, his eyes lighting up at the thought of an interesting destination and the fact that it was his idea to go. 

The second that Akaashi steps outside, he knows why Bokuto was so persistent on taking a walk tonight. The weather was beautiful. There was a slight breeze, especially as they got closer to the water, but it was warm. There were no clouds in the sky. The moon was full, highlighting even the portions of the street that didn’t have any streetlights. It was the perfect night for a walk. 

They walked, hand-in-hand the entire time, to a long wooden pier sticking out into the ocean. Bokuto offered Akaashi his hoodie as they stepped onto it, the wind blowing slightly colder than usual. Akaashi obviously accepted, putting it on before quickly reaching for Bokuto’s hand again, not wanting to be without it. 

The perfect night was just coaxing the thought that had been residing in Akaash’s mind as the tour was finishing its final weeks. He had been thinking about it for a while and looking out over the water, it finally felt like the right time to bring it up. They approach the end of the pier, hands still together, but arms now resting on the top of the wooden barriers. 

“I was thinking that when we get back from tour if maybe you’d want to get a place with just the two of us.” Akaashi puts it out into the nighttime air. He had been thinking about it for the past few months. He knows that he could very well just move in with him, Tsukishima, and Kuroo, but he also knows that having their own space with just the two of them, a place where they don’t have to worry about how loud they’re being late at night or getting too into it in the living room and losing track of the time and when Tsukishima and Kuroo were supposed to get back is a step that Akaashi wants to take. He starts blushing at all of the times that Kuroo and Tsukishima have known too much or seen too much. He also knew that Bokuto, Kuroo, and Tsukishima had been living together for years and years, since before their band even formed, but the year-long tour was coming to an end and maybe it was time for a change. 

Sleeping with Bokuto in hotel beds, sharing his living space with him on the tiny bus, stealing his clothes even though he had an entire wardrobe, brushing his teeth with him in the morning, texting him while they were in the same room, eating every meal with him, these were just things that Akaashi wasn’t ready to give up when they got back home. 

Bokuto turns his head, looking at Akaashi and smiling before kissing the back of his hand gently. “I don’t think we’re on the same page, y’know.” Akaashi’s heart might have dropped if it hadn't been for the pure joy on Bokuto’s face. He was the definition of beaming. Akaashi cocks his head to the side, just waiting for Bokuto to explain. 

“Tours coming to an end, Kaashi,” Bokuto leans against the wooden fencing, his attention now back to the vast body of water. “It was truly the best year of my entire life and it’s all thanks to you. I know you’re going to try to protest, so don’t, okay? I mean it, it’s all thanks to you. The night that the rep was there all those years ago, I never would have played that well if you weren’t in the crowd looking up at me. If I didn’t have you to play for, to drive me, she never would have been interested in signing us, no development deal, or anything.”

“And this tour,” he scoffs and even though Akaashi is only looking at his side profile lit only by the moon and dim streetlights, he can see how happy he is. “Even if I eventually got here, on tour with Kuroo and Tsukki, it wouldn’t have been the same without you. You’ve kept me grounded, kept me accountable, kept me true to myself, kept me honest. You were there when I needed you for anything. I know you were there before the tour, but living with you in a tiny room on a bus for a year taught me that we can tackle anything. I mean, you agreed to come in the first place. You dropped everything to come on tour with me, follow my dreams with me, and in an instant too. I’ve never had anyone love me without any boundaries, no one that’s loved me as unconditionally as you, Keiji.” 

Akaashi is hanging onto every single word that he’s saying, tears beginning to run down the sides of his cheeks. His eyes don’t move from Bokuto as he lowers himself to the floor, his hand still grasped around Akaashi’s as he gently rests one of his knees on the ground. Akaashi’s mind is so focused on the scene in front of him that he can’t seem to remember how to perform basic tasks to keep himself alive like breathing or a regular heartbeat. His hand starts to shake, beginning at his fingertips and spreading throughout his entire arm. Bokuto squeezes gently, looking up at Akaashi before pulling a small velvet box out of his coat pocket. The tears are starting to flow consistently now, pulling his other hand up and clasping it over his mouth. Akaashi has no idea how Bokuto’s hand stays so steady as he opens the small box nor how his other hand stays grasped so strongly around his. 

“You’re always the one that’s 10 steps ahead of me, so it’s kinda weird being a step ahead of you.” Bokuto’s smile is so genuine, so kind, that Akaashi wants to pull out his phone and take a picture in the middle of this moment just so he could remember it perfectly. His smile changes a slight worry when a thought clearly pops into his head, but his excitement still shines through despite whatever concern resided. “Unless you say no, in which case, you’re still steps ahead of me…” He shakes the notion away. “Akaashi Keiji, will you marry me?”

Bokuto, his boyfriend of 4 years, the light of his life, the now reason he wakes up in the morning, the man that cannot sit still for more than 2 minutes (Akaashi counted one night), someone who thought that skipping was a valid form of transportation, who would get nervous about asking for extra pork in his ramen, but not performing on stage in front of thousands of people, was kneeling in front of him, the most elated and serious look on his face, void of any doubt or confusion or anxiety, asking him to marry him.

Akaashi’s so deep in thought about the situation and the first time they met and all of the events that led up to this perfect moment that he doesn’t even speak. It’s not until Bokuto squeezes his hand tighter that he’s brought back. “I- yes, of course, of course, Kou, yes.” He can’t stop crying now, silently, as Bokuto’s steady fingers take the ring out of the box, sliding it gently onto Akaashi’s trembling one. It fits perfectly, of course, it does, Bokuto picked it out. 

He stays kneeling, even after putting the band onto Akaashi’s finger, just staring up at him and then back down at Akaashi’s hand, at the small silver band around his finger. Akkashi has to tug at his hand to get him back to his feet. As much as he wants to keep looking at Bokuto like this, he’d much rather be in his arms. 

The feeling of the metal wrapped around his finger only encourages him to tackle him harder. Bokuto, obviously, stays upright despite how hard Akaashi has thrown himself at him, wrapping himself around him as hard as he can. He unwraps himself almost immediately, holding his hand up and waving it in Bokuto’s face as if Bokuto wasn’t the one that put it there. His tears are finally slowing, the overwhelming emotions settling and being replaced with more excitement than he’s ever felt in his entire life. Akaashi literally spins around, the soft moonlight illuminating each of his facial features, and Bokuto knows that he’s made the most important, correct decision of his entire life. 

In all of his adorational intoxication, he’s not expecting Akaashi’s weight pushing into him again so quickly. It knocks him off balance, propelling him backward into the siding of the pier, the railing meeting the small of his back, catching him. Akaashi’s legs are wrapped around his waist and he’s kissing him so hard that it takes his breath away. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Akaashi giggles, but he’s not actually sorry, not when he feels so good being supported by his  _ fiancé _ . His chest feels like it’s full of helium as he squeezes Bokuto as tightly as he can. Akaashi’s laughter is infectious causing Bokuto to laugh into his shoulder, kissing whatever part of his body that he can reach. 

Strong arms supporting him, he unravels his arms from Bokuto’s neck, placing each of his hands, instead, on Bokuto’s cheeks. He presses his forehead against Bokuto’s. “I love you, Kou,” Akaashi breathes before softly kissing him, letting his lips linger even after Bokuto has tenderly lowered him to the ground, their bodies staying pressed against one another. Even after Bo put him down, his hands rested on Akaashi’s hips, gripping into them softly. All of Akaashi’s weight was on Bokuto, his hands having migrated to the banister right next to Bo’s waist, using it as an anchor to pull himself as close as he could to his  _ fiancé _ . 

Bokuto pulls away begrudgingly, a smile still plastered on his face. “There’s a party for us back at the hotel.” Akaashi shakes his head, pressing his lips against his again, harder this time, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. He grabs the fabric of Bokuto’s neckline, clenching it into his fists as he stands on his tippy toes, making sure there is no possible way they could get closer. Bokuto hums as he squeezes Akaashi’s hips. Akaashi knows there’s no one around, though, even if there was, he’s not sure he could have contained himself. He bites gently on Bokuto’s lip, rolling it between his teeth so delicately before doing the same to his jawline and then his neck. The grip on Akaashi’s hips tightens with each love bite. “Kaashi,” Bokuto whines, but Akaashi just starts sucking on small patches of Bokuto’s neck. 

“Hm?” he hums into Bokuto’s neck, making him shiver. He hums again just to watch it once more. He’s still kissing his neck, getting lower and lower until he meets the fabric. 

“There’s a party for us back at the hotel,” Bokuto repeats himself, swallowing when Akaashi moves his shirt to the side to kiss his collarbone. 

“What if I said no?” Akaashi asks between contact. 

“I was going to text Kuroo and then stall while they cleaned everything up and made everyone go home,” Bokuto answers honestly. Akaashi stops kissing him, staring into his eyes with a confused look on his face. In what world was Akaashi ever going to say no to this? 

“Everyone?” 

Bokuto nods and starts naming off some of their friends from back home before saying, “Oh! And Yukie flew in! She’s there!”

He contemplates his options. He hadn’t seen Yukie in so long. They had FaceTimed quite a bit on tour, especially when Bokuto was busy rehearsing or practicing, but he missed his best friend. However, on the other side, he could just keep kissing his  _ fiancé _ .

Akaashi knows that if he just started leaning into him and kissing him again, Bokuto wouldn’t have thought about the party at all, but he sees Bokuto’s puppy-dog eyes and he can’t resist. As much as he wants to just keep kissing his  _ fiancé _ , he wants to make him happy. Akaashi places one final kiss onto Bokuto’s lips, making sure not to linger and get caught up in the moment. When he pulls away, he takes Bokuto’s hand, pulling him away from the railing and making their way back to the sidewalk. 

Despite his hesitancy to leave the pier and his solitude with his  _ fiancé _ , Bokuto eventually drags him back to the party, carrying him on his back. “No fiancé of mine is going to have to walk all the way back to our hotel,” Bokuto had explained. The party was as extravagant and extra as he expected it to be. All of the people from the tour and even some of their friends from home were all there. Yukie had even made it, explaining to Akaashi that when Bokuto asked if he should propose, she told him that she wanted to be there. 

Bokuto spent the entire night with some part of his body touching Akaashi at all times, walking around to different guests and showing off his  _ fiancé _ , despite everyone there already knowing Akaashi. Akaashi spent the entire night looking at Bokuto as he socialized with the most evident look of pure love in the history of ever. 

* * *

“I cannot believe your husband decided to play at his own wedding,” Kenma shakes his head. Akaashi is looking up at the stage, watching Crowlster play their 3rd or 4th song since the start of the reception. They had a DJ too, but every so often, Bokuto would drag Tsukishima and Kuroo onto the stage and play a song, watching the people dance on the floor. Akaashi had always been one of those people, but this time, he chose to sit down and just watch. 

“Your boyfriend definitely didn’t help the cause, okay?” Akaashi shoots back. “Besides, it’s my wedding, you have to be nice.” 

“I’m nice…,” he pauses, “I’m just saying that your boyfriend is an idiot.” Akaashi looks up at the stage, Bokuto’s dark gray jacket thrown onto the ground near his feet and his tie loosened into a relaxed circle on his collarbones. He’s suddenly very thankful that he chose to wear the white suit and forced Bokuto to wear the gray one. He’s playing so intently, staring down at his bass, his tongue sticking out of his mouth just slightly. Akaashi is remembering what it felt like to fall in love all over again. 

“He really is,” Akaashi sighs, but it’s so full of love that Kenma rolls his eyes. “Hey, don’t act like Kuroo won’t pull the same exact shit when you guys get married.” He pauses, then, for a moment, before asking, “Do you guys want to get married?”

Kenma responds quicker than he’s ever responded to anything, “Yeah, someday.” 

Akaashi hums in contentment, taking a sip of the champagne in his hand as he sways in his chair to Crowlster’s song. All of the guests are enjoying themselves as they listen to the live music, but the song can’t end soon enough. Akaashi wants to be draped back around him again. “I highly recommend it.” Akaashi’s tipsy curiosity is getting the better of him as he prys, feeling like gossiping PTA moms. “Do you think Yams and Tsukishima will ever get married?” 

Kenma mulls over this. “Yams wants to get married, I think, and then, if Yams wants to get married, Tsukishima will do anything for him, so yeah. I think so.” Akaashi hums again.

“I like weddings,” Akaashi admits, taking in all of the people that are there to support him, the beautiful decorations, the breathtaking venue. He’s almost too busy taking in what a good job they did that he doesn’t realize that the song is over and Bokuto has jumped off of the stage, walking very quickly towards Akaashi. 

“Kaashi! My husband!!!!!” Bokuto is practically squealing. The excitement in his voice is contagious. You could actually feel the exclamation marks that came after. Bokuto scoops Akaashi up in his arms, like he had many times tonight already, and spins him around. No bone in his body is telling himself to protest this. Bokuto has had many more drinks than he has but is still completely cognitive. “Kenma, do you see Kaashi, my husband?” Kenma nods quietly to Bokuto before Bokuto starts carrying him to meet with other guests. 

Bokuto had not stopped referring to Akaashi by both a nickname and “my husband” all night. He likes the feel of it in his mouth. “Congrats, again, you guys,” Kuroo says, catching up with Bokuto, sitting down on Kenma’s lap despite being far too big. Kenma, surprisingly enough, doesn't seem to mind. 

Tsukishima doesn’t join them until he’s found Yamaguchi talking to some old mutual friends in the corner, dragging him away from his conversation so that he doesn’t have to be alone. “How’s married life?” Tsukishima asks, his fingers intertwined with Yamaguchi who was blushing from something Tsukki had said on their way over to them. 

Bokuto throws Akaashi up in the air, letting him leave his arms by just a few inches before pulling him back closely into his body. “Better than real life,” Bokuto says, squeezing Akaashi. 

“Congratulations, Akaashi,” Yamaguchi says, bowing slightly. They had become pretty good friends while they were on tour together, but Yamaguchi rarely completely warmed up to anyone other than Tsukki. 

“Bo, Bo, you have to put me down,” Akaashi laughs not really wanting to leave the comfort of his arms, but knowing that he should actually walk around his wedding and not be carried around.  _ It was his wedding, though _ . Bokuto pouts, setting Akaashi down gently, but keeping his arm slinked around his waist. “We should go mingle for a bit, but we’ll be back to talk later, yeah?” The four men nod as Bokuto and Akaashi begin to leave. He hears Kenma and Yamaguchi starting to talk about how Kenma has his switch in Kuroo’s coat pocket if they wanted to go play Mario Kart. Kuroo quickly scolds them, but it doesn’t do much as Tsukishima agrees and claims that they outnumber Kuroo 3 to 1. Kuroo eventually gives in. Akaashi can’t help but glance back as they make their way to the coat check and smile at four of the most important people in his life, all thanks to Bokuto. 

They walk away from their friends, regretting it, but knowing they have to mingle, joined closely together at the hip, talking with guests, taking stupid photos, drinking, dancing, enjoying their time together, playing Mario Kart on Kenma’s switch at a table in the back of the room. Yukie had, of course, been there as well, attending with Kaori. She had delivered a speech at the beginning of the reception that made Akaashi cry like a baby. “My little Keiji,” she had said, pinching his cheek, “growing up, traveling the country, getting married to a hot bass player.” She then turned to Bokuto, “Take care of him, okay?”

Akaashi had heard so many times that his wedding would be the happiest day of his life, and he never  _ didn’t  _ believe it, but now, standing here, his entire side up against Bokuto’s, his hand gripping his hip tightly to make sure that he doesn’t drift away, Akaashi knows that he could never be happier than this. 

“I love you, Kou,” Akaashi says, pushing forward into  _ his husband _ and kissing him as they’re walking away from the crowd of people. He still gets giddy when he thinks about their labels, looking down at his hand and the small silver band around his finger. 

“I love you!!!” Bokuto picks Akaashi up again and Akaashi can’t even be angry in the slightest. He pushes his head against Bokuto’s chest, snuggling against it discreetly.  _ His husband _ leans down and peers into Akaashi’s eyes. “Kaashi, I have to ask you something very important.” He tries to maintain a serious face but is absolutely failing as cracks of bliss and laughter shine through. 

“What’s that, Bokuto-chan?” They were already married, have already had the talk about kids (they were meeting with an adoption agency in 2 weeks), and were already living together. Akaashi has no idea what very important question Bokuto has to ask him. Akaashi’s mind no longer flickers to worst-case scenarios with Bokuto, because they had never been true, had never even threatened to occur. Time and time again, Bokuto proved that more often than not, it was the best-case scenario that unfolded. 

Their entire relationship gave way to new growth, new flourishes, new prosperities, new bonds. They were constantly maturing together. Akaashi looks at Bokuto, truly taking in all that’s in front of him, all of the features that had evolved over the years, the softness that he portrayed despite his chaotic wildness, his avid facial expressions. He saw his future, ever-lasting and dynamic, directly in front of him, literally supporting him. 

He leans in so closely to Akaashi’s ear that Akaashi can feel his smile. “Do you want to go make out in the closet?”

Okay, well, some things never change. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! feel free to leave a comment and/or a kudo! they are more appreciated than you know!!!
> 
> if you want to follow me on tumblr, talk or whatnot, you can find me @a-kaash-me-outside!

**Author's Note:**

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> thank you so much for reading! feel free to leave a comment and/or a kudo! they are more appreciated than you know!!!
> 
> if you want to follow me on tumblr, talk or whatnot, you can find me @a-kaash-me-outside!


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